


Always

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon, Ethan Gold Bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-01
Updated: 2004-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:59:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Justin is a teenage father new to Pittsburgh.  Plot bunny from Stephanie M.  This is my first fic, so feedback is greatly appreciated.  I have decided, after great consideration, that this fic is not anti-Michael, so I've changed the warning.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Justin paced around his small apartment, lightly bouncing the baby in his arms. Slowing, then coming to a stop in front of the large living room windows, he found himself peering down at the busy city street and wishing, however briefly, that he was a part of the controlled chaos of Friday night. He sighed gently, his warm breath drifting across the silken hair of his infant son, causing the little boy to look up at him and offer a wide toothless grin.

“I know, it’s just you and me.” He smiled at his son, then resumed pacing. “You know, I don’t have to work tomorrow. We could go to the park. Check it out. See what it’s like. I think it’s just down the street. Maybe you could start making friends. Never too early to learn important social skills.” He rubbed his son’s back, then carried him to his playpen and set him down, then set his stuffed teddy bear within reach.

He sank heavily onto the couch he had picked up the week before just after he had moved into the apartment, and glared at the stack of textbooks resting atop the footlocker that served as a coffee table. Never in his life did he think he’d be studying for his high school equivalency diploma. He, as well as his parents, had always imagined he would finish near, if not at, the top of his class and then go on to an Ivy League school. But, he reminded himself, as he looked back at his son, who was now chewing on his teddy’s arm, things don’t always go as planned. And maybe, in the end, everything would work out for the best.

“Though that remains to be seen,” he muttered, leaning forward and grabbing his history textbook. He had just begun reading a chapter on the Vietnam conflict when his cell phone rang. Instantly the baby began to cry. Justin glanced at his cell’s display and flipped open the phone. “I’ll call you right back.” Then he snapped the phone shut again and made his way over to his son. Reaching into the playpen, he began to gently caress the boy’s back, rubbing soothing circles until the child calmed enough to resume chewing on the bear.

Making his way back to the couch, Justin lay down, his sock-clad feet resting on the arm of the couch. He grabbed his cell phone and punched in a number. After a few rings a female voice picked up on the other end.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Justin, what’s wrong? Why was Finlay crying? Is everything all right?”

“Christ, Mom, he’s fine. The phone startled him, that’s all. Why do you immediately assume something’s wrong? I know how to take care of my son.”

“It’s just that you’re still so new at this, at all of it. Being a parent, being independent. . . . You’re just so young to have so much responsibility.”

“You do realize that this is why I moved away from Chicago once the settlement money came through? Because I was tired of you second-guessing how I live and how I take care of my family?” he replied, forcing his voice to remain calm, not wanting to startle Finlay any further.

“Given your track record over the last year and a half, you can’t really blame me.”

“And in that year and a half, I’ve done a lot of growing up. I think it’s fair to say that you and I are on relatively even footing. So I don’t need you making assumptions about my abilities as a father. Now, if this is why you called, I should probably say goodbye now, because it’ll just degenerate into a big fight and I have neither the time nor the energy for it right now.”

“But Justin, you have to understand my concerns. You’re only seventeen!”

“And I’ve been through a hell of a lot more in my life than most people three times my age, so you can stop treating me as though I’m just like every other seventeen-year-old you’ve ever met.”

“Fine. For now.” There was a pause for a moment, then his mother continued. “I ran into Connor and Maureen the other day.”

“And?”

“They just wanted to know how Finlay’s doing. I think they miss him.”

“I’ll send them a picture in a while. They just saw him three weeks ago.” He glanced at the timer display on the phone. Fifteen minutes. Perfect time for an escape. “Mom, I’ve gotta go. Finlay needs to be fed and changed, and I have a ton of stuff to do.”

“All right. Justin?”

“What?”

“Your father asked about you.”

“Good for him. Bye.” He snapped the phone shut and tossed it onto the footlocker. Then he pinched his eyes shut. Another headache, just what he needed. Standing, he crossed the living room and found himself looking out the window once again. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool glass, his breath leaving a round blemish on the previously clear window.

Then as if on impulse, he turned, grabbed his phone, and began searching through the numbers he had programmed into it. Finding the correct one, he pushed the button and once again found himself listening to a dial tone.

“Hello?”

“Daphne? Hi, it’s Justin Taylor. Are you busy tomorrow?”

 

Going anywhere with a nine-month old was bound to be an excruciating prospect. First there was prep time—bottles to prepare, diapers to pack, a change of clothes in case the diaper leaked, a couple jars of pureed carrots or beans—then there was the maneuvering. Getting Finlay into whatever clothes the weather of the day dictated, getting him into the stroller, getting the stroller and diaper bag out of the apartment intact, and then winding their way around the others making their way along the sidewalk. 

Yet somehow they made it to the park and managed to find an empty bench a short distance from the sandbox where a group of toddlers were playing. Justin deposited the diaper bag on the bench beside himself, then reached down to retrieve his son from the stroller. He set the boy on his lap so that he, too, could watch the other children as they played.

“You know what, Finlay? Your mommy would have liked this park, I think. You see the grass? All different shades of green. And you see that spot over there where it’s really dark and lush? That’s like the grass where your mother was from. She was from Ireland, you know. She couldn’t remember much of it, she moved here with your grandparents when she was four, but she went back to visit every now and then. I never got to go with her. Didn’t know her long enough to. But one day I’ll take you there. And we’ll track down your aunts and uncles and great-grandparents.” He smoothed the boy’s wispy blonde hair away from his forehead, then kissed the spot he had just cleared. “I bet you can’t wait until you’re old enough to play in that sandbox, huh? I’m sure you’ll make a huge mess of yourself once you’re able to dive in there. But that’s okay. That’s the cool thing about being a kid—you can make a mess and get away with it. Most of the time, anyway. But if you start writing on the walls, or getting into my art supplies, we’re going to have some serious issues, young man. But there’s plenty of time to worry about that later. Like when you can walk. That’s gonna be fun.” He bounced the boy on his knee for a moment, reveling in the laughter erupting from the child.

Twenty minutes later Justin found himself on the end of Liberty Avenue. He’d heard about this particular street from his co-workers at the upscale Thom’s Literary World, just a short distance from his apartment, but he’d never ventured near Liberty before. Between finding an apartment, furniture, a job, suitable daycare for Finlay, and studying for his diploma, he just hadn’t found the time to explore much of the city. 

He squinted against the bright sunlight as he peered down the street. The Liberty Diner instantly caught his attention because the moment he saw it he felt a knot form in his stomach, quickly followed by a loud rumble. 

“You hear that, Finlay? I think that we should stop for lunch. And that looks like as good a place as any.” He’d anticipated that actually getting into the diner would cause some problems, as often happened with doors that had to be pulled open and held in position while trying to maneuver a bulky stroller through them. Fortunately, a tall, slightly gap-toothed man wearing a bright red tank top held the door open for him.

“Thanks.” He returned the man’s endearing smile.

“Not a problem, baby.”

Once inside, Justin stood and took in his surroundings. The diner was vibrant, to say the least, with bright yellow walls, booths with green vinyl seats, and an assortment of posters and rainbow flags littering the walls. Spying an empty booth, Justin pushed the stroller forward and barely managed to slide onto the green monstrosity of a seat before a slightly overweight red-haired woman who appeared to be covered in slogan-bearing buttons accosted him.

“Hey there, cutie, what can I get you?” She tapped the ballpoint tip of her feather-clad pen against her tongue before holding it poised above her order pad.

“Oh, um . . . I haven’t had a chance to look at the menu yet.”

“Well, we have just about anything your typical American diner would have.”

“Okay. Um, I guess I’ll just have a cheeseburger, fries, and a Pepsi.”

“All right.” Glancing down, she finally seemed to notice the little boy staring up at her from his stroller, seemingly fascinated with the gaudy earrings dangling from her lobes. “Oh, isn’t he adorable!” She reached down and ran her finger along his cheek. “What’s his name?”

“Finlay.”

“That’s a name you don’t hear often.”

“Yeah, it is sort of unique around here.”

“Hey, do you need a bottle heated up or anything? I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Yeah, thanks, that’d be great.” Reaching into the side pocket of the diaper bag, Justin retrieved a bottle. “He gets this look when he’s thirsty, and he’s about five minutes away from a full-blown screaming fit right now if he doesn’t get his bottle.”

“I’ll put a rush on it then,” she replied with a chuckle. “You know, I know you probably got roped into spending your Saturday with him, but I think it’s great that you’re bonding with your little brother. He looks just like you.” Then, with a smile, she turned and made her way toward the kitchen, bottle in hand.

Justin looked down at his son and sighed. People always thought the boy was his younger brother. It didn’t help that Justin was so baby-faced that he barely looked fifteen, let alone seventeen. And, being that he was now in a diner that catered mainly to the gay community, he supposed he couldn’t fault the woman for arriving at the conclusion that Finlay was his brother. Noticing that the tantrum was close to beginning, Justin released his son from the confines of the stroller and cradled him in his right arm.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered. “Daddy’s got you.” Smiling, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his son’s cheek.

 

Justin had just finished his shower, with Finlay napping in the playpen that had been placed in front of the open bathroom door, when the buzzer sounded. Quickly wrapping a towel around his waist, Justin sidestepped the playpen and made his way to the door. Once Daphne identified herself Justin pressed the button to release the lock on the door leading to the lobby of the apartment building. That done, he ran into his bedroom and pulled on a pair of faded jeans and went to answer the door. He opened it to find a surprised Daphne staring at his bare chest.

“Sorry, I’m running a bit behind,” Justin apologized, gesturing her into the apartment, then closing the door and flipping the deadbolt. “Fin decided to throw up on one of my favorite shirts today and it took forever to get the stain out. And then he was being fussy and didn’t want to take a nap. We finally managed to get through that small crisis, though.” He smiled and gestured to the playpen.

“Why’s that . . .” Daphne’s forehead wrinkled with obvious confusion.

“Typical overprotective parent, I suppose.” Justin grinned at her. “Since it’s just me, there’s no one to watch him when I shower, so I just put him by the door and leave it open. That way I can peek out at him every couple of minutes. I tried the baby monitor once, but it was just too hard to hear over the shower.” He ran a hand through his damp hair. “Shit, I can’t believe I’m standing here half-dressed! Give me two seconds, okay?” Turning, he disappeared into his room and began rummaging through his closet, finally coming up with a black tee shirt. He slipped it on, then studied his reflection. Once back in the living room, he stopped and looked at Daphne again. “Okay, honest opinion . . . what do you think?”

“Um, the jeans are good. The shirt’s um . . . isn’t it a little . . . tight?”

“That’s what I was aiming for.” He opened the closet by the front door and began rummaging for a pair of shoes to wear, finally deciding on a pair of basic black boots. “Okay, like I said when I called yesterday, I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Could be in a few hours, could be early morning. I’ll try and make sure I’m back by eight, if that’s a good time for you.”

“That’s fine. I’ll just crash on the couch.”

“Okay. Well, it’s a sleeper sofa, so you can pull it out if you want. And there’s an extra pillow and some blankets in the closet across from the bathroom, okay? You have my cell number in case of emergencies, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Thanks a lot, Daphne, I really appreciate you doing this on such short notice. I just really need a night to myself.” He made his way toward the small table by the door to grab his keys when the glint of gold caught his attention. Frozen, he stared at the simple gold ring that adorned the third finger of his left hand.

“Justin? Are you okay?”

“Hm?” Looking up, he caught Daphne watching him with worry and concern etched across her normally jovial features. “Yeah, I guess.” He picked up his keys and stuffed them in his pocket. “I just . . .” He stared at his ring again, momentarily lost in thought, then crossed to the playpen and picked up his sleeping son. He took a seat near Daphne on the couch and cradled Finlay against his chest. He looked at the girl, then smiled sadly. “I’m sure you don’t need to hear my problems.”

“Well, here’s the thing you need to know about me; I like to listen almost as much as I like to talk. Plus, I’m just a really nosey person, so I really don’t mind hearing about other people’s problems. Besides, yours must be fairly interesting; I mean, you’ve just moved here, with a baby, and you barely look as though you’ve reached puberty. So, I’ll admit, I’ve been a bit intrigued.” She smiled widely at him and he found himself grinning back.

“You sure you want to hear it?”

“If you want to tell it.”

Justin gazed down at his ring again, using pressure from his thumb to twist it around his finger. “I used to be married,” he began quietly. “I never really wanted to be married, though. At least not the way it happened. It was more of a shotgun wedding, if you know what I mean. Her parents were from Ireland, very strict Catholics, so when she found out she was pregnant they insisted she get married. She didn’t really want to, either. I mean, aside from that one night . . . we’d never really spent any time together and we weren’t friends right away. And my parents weren’t too pleased, either. My father had a fit and kicked me out of the house. I ended up sleeping in my car for a week. My mother finally tracked me down, told me that Finlay’s grandparents wanted me to marry their daughter to avoid what they viewed as scandal, and to ensure that Finlay wouldn’t be illegitimate, and could be baptized. My mother wasn’t fond of the idea, but she did think it would be the best for all involved. So a week later Finlay’s mother and I were marched down the aisle of her church and I moved in with her and her parents. It was a pretty tense situation. Her parents hated me. She and I got along, became friends, but we were never more than that. I went with her to the doctor, was there for the sonogram and everything. And, although I knew the timing and the entire situation was wrong, I was really looking forward to becoming a father, you know? Because I never, ever thought it would happen. 

“When she was almost eight months along she took her car to the garage to have some work done on the brakes. The brakes ended up being defective, although there was no way the mechanic could have known that. She was driving through the city on her way home from shopping one day and she was cut off by a woman in a minivan. She tried to stop but the brakes failed.” He reached up and began rubbing circles on Finlay’s back in an effort to calm himself. “By the time I got to the hospital she had already died, but by some miracle the doctors had been able to take Finlay before it was too late.”

“Your wife . . . what was her name?” Daphne asked quietly.

“Shannon. She was a really nice person, you know? And she would have been a good mother.” He paused for a moment, then looked down at his son again. “Anyway, her parents wanted me to sue the company that made the defective brakes, but those kinds of lawsuits take forever, and even then they’re nearly impossible to win. But there I was, seventeen, a widower with a son born prematurely, who needed a lot of attention as a result, both in the hospital and once he was released, and I knew I’d need a lot of money to be able to take care of him. So I accepted the settlement. Shannon’s parents were furious, thought I’d made a huge mistake. But I figured, with the settlement, I could make some kind of life for us. Go to college without relying on anyone else, because there was no way my father was going to help me out. And as long as I had that, I could get a good job, provide a nice home . . . I don’t know, maybe it’s flawed logic.

“Like I said, her parents were furious. They didn’t want me or Finlay around anymore, although they wouldn’t say it, because it would have gotten back to their friends at the church. So once the money came through I bought a car, packed our things, and left. I headed east and kept driving until I ended up here. And that was almost a month ago.” He gazed down at his ring again. “Just because we got married for all the wrong reasons didn’t mean I didn’t love her. But only as a friend, never more than that. It’s just . . . I don’t know, I haven’t been able to bring myself to take the ring off. I guess it’s out of a sense of loyalty. I know it’s time. In fact, it’s past time . . . you know what? Fuck it. I can’t expect to begin over if I’m still wearing it.” He lifted Finlay and gently settled him on the cushion between himself and Daphne. Then he turned his attention to his ring again. “I have every intention of getting laid tonight, and there’s no way I can do that if I’m wearing this—it just wouldn’t feel right.” He slowly slipped the ring off his finger and peered at it. Standing, he made his way into the bedroom and deposited it amid the quarters and dimes that were scattered atop his dresser. He peered in the mirror again, forcing himself to regain his composure. Then he sauntered back into the living room.

“So, are you sure this is okay?” He grinned and gestured to his clothing.


	2. Always

Seeing Liberty Avenue in the light of day had not prepared him for the bustle of the street at night. As he paid the cab driver and gazed around the street, he had the unmistakable urge to sketch the scene before him, to capture the vibrant colors and wonderfully outrageous people lining its sidewalks. He also noticed that, if the looks he had been getting in passing were any indication, he was definitely getting laid tonight.

About halfway down the street he paused under a streetlight to light a rare cigarette and decide the best place to go. Most of the clubs, judging from the clientele streaming from their doors, didn’t look all that appealing. Woody’s looked all right, though. And then he noticed the neon-blue sign proclaiming the kingdom of Babylon; or, rather, he noticed the auburn-haired man standing slightly to the left of the sign lighting a cigarette of his own.

Justin dropped his cigarette butt on the ground, twisting it against the pavement with the toe of his left boot. When he looked up again, he found himself gazing at sparkling hazel eyes now just a few yards away. Justin held his gaze for a moment, waiting, and was soon rewarded as the man stepped even closer.

“Busy night?”

“Not really.” Justin held back his usual full-fledged smile, but allowed a slight grin to show through his nervousness. “Just checking out Liberty at night.”

“Think you’ve seen enough of it?”

“Possibly. I could be persuaded.”

“And what would it take to persuade you?”

“Your name,” Justin replied, releasing his usual smile.

It was then that, seemingly out of nowhere, their ears were assaulted by a loud whine. “Brian!”

“Fuck.”

“Is that a promise?” Justin stepped forward slightly, pressing himself gently against Brian. 

“It’s a guarantee.” Brian offered his tongue-in-cheek grin, then gazed around for a moment, eyes drifting to his friend then back again. “You have a car here?”

“No, I took a cab tonight.”

“Let’s go, then.” He wrapped his arm around the younger man’s shoulders and peered down at him for a moment. “You never told me your name.”

“Justin.”

“Brian! Come on!” the man across the street called.

“As soon as I take care of this little situation,” he gestured at the other man, “we can get going.” Brian’s arm around Justin’s shoulders, and Justin’s arm around Brian’s waist, the two made their way over to the short dark-haired man.

“Brian, we have to go! And I’m not going to stand around all night waiting for you to finish tricking.”

“I don’t expect you to, you just seem to always do it. I’m not preventing you from going home. Call a cab.”

“But you said you’d give me a ride.”

“Plans change.” He pulled Justin tighter against his side. “Justin, Michael, Michael, Justin.”

“Nice to meet you.” Justin smiled and offered his free hand. Michael’s eyes turned into shards of coal as he glared at the young man, ignoring his outstretched hand.

“What the fuck are you doing, Brian? You never bother to get your tricks’ names before you fuck them.”

“And that’s your business because? Seriously, Mikey, stay out of it. Call a cab and go home. Or have Ted and Emmett take you.”

“They already left.”

“Do you need the number for a cab? Because I have one programmed into my phone. It’ll just take a second to get it for you,” Justin offered.

“I think you’ve done enough already, Boy Wonder.” Michael narrowed his eyes at Justin for a moment, then returned his petulant glare to his friend. “What, are you fucking teenagers now?”

“Um, again, none of your business, Mikey. Just go home. I’ll see you tomorrow. Breakfast at the diner. Usual time, okay?” He placed his hand on the back of Justin’s neck and began leading him away from Michael. “Come on, my Jeep’s around back.”

 

Justin gazed around the loft apartment he had been ushered into, taking in its blue and white tones, stark lines, and unmistakable orderliness. He also noticed the painting of the naked man that took up a large section of the wall. Curious, he walked over to it and stared at it for a moment, taking in the outline of the man, the strong brushstrokes, the wonderful mixing of colors.

“So . . . what do you think?” Brian asked, reaching over Justin’s shoulder and handing him a cold bottle of Sam Adams. 

“Thanks.” Justin took the proffered beer, letting the bitter liquid drift down his throat. “Well, I guess as far as the subject matter goes, he doesn’t really do it for me. He’s not that attractive, doesn’t look all that friendly or inviting. But I will give him credit, whoever he is, for . . . how should I put this . . . exposing himself for the sake of art. The brushstrokes are wonderful, though. The artist seems very self-assured. And the tones that make up the background are so perfectly blended that it’s nearly impossible to distinguish where the black ends and the dark green begins.”

“You got all that from seeing it just now?”

“Yeah.” Justin turned and smiled up at Brian. “I just notice things. Especially when it comes to art. It’s sort of a passion of mine. I hardly ever go anywhere without a sketchbook.”

“You don’t have one tonight.”

“In a pinch, anything will do. Although I wasn’t anticipating sketching anything tonight.”

“Well, then it’s probably for the best.” Reaching forward, Brian took the half-empty bottle from Justin’s hand and set it on the coffee table. Stepping closer, he slid his arms around Justin’s waist, letting his hands drift under the hem at the back of his tee shirt. 

Justin’s right hand found its way to the back of Brian’s neck, gently pulling him closer. He gazed into the other man’s hazel eyes, taking note of the slight twinkling he found there. Then Brian took control, his lips making contact with Justin’s, his tongue pushing inside his mouth, a kiss so feral and intoxicating that they were both shaken by it.

Tilting his head back, but not releasing the younger man, Brian cleared his throat, then said, “You know, Michael was right about one thing—you do look really young.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Hm? No, not really. If it did, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Well, just to put your mind at ease . . . I’m seventeen.” He tilted his head slightly to the left, his eyes never leaving Brian’s. “Although I’ve been told quite often that I seem years older.”

“I think that’s a given.” He grinned down at the slightly shorter man. Then he ran his hands up the smooth skin of his back, raising the shirt as he did so, before finally pulling it off and tossing it into an empty chair and then pulling Justin down onto the couch with him. He covered the younger man with his body and began nipping at the base of his neck. Justin strained against him, tilting his head back as far as he could to allow the other man more access. 

“Brian?”

“Hm.”

“Phone.”

“Machine.”

“Mm, okay.” He slid his fingers into Brian’s hair as the other man continued his assault on his neck. “Mm, yeah.”

“Brian! Are you there! Stop fucking and answer the goddamn phone!”

“Fuck!” His head rested in the groove of Justin’s neck and shoulder for a moment, then he placed a soft kiss on Justin’s lips before sitting up and reaching for the phone. “Just give me two seconds.” He hit the “talk” button and pressed the phone to his ear. “Yes, Mel, what do you want?”

Justin looked up at the older man from where he lay on the couch, taking in his chiseled nose and beautiful cheekbones, and couldn’t help but think of all the ways he could sketch him. Pushing himself into an upright position, he slid behind Brian and began placing light kisses to the back of his neck, his lips barely touching his skin. Then he tugged at his shirt, pulling it up just enough that he could trail more kisses down Brian’s spine. 

“Well, why didn’t you call me?” Brian demanded, the annoyance in his voice tempered by Justin’s left hand, as he found Brian’s free one and laced their fingers together to rest against the older man’s taut stomach. “Of course my phone was off, it’s Saturday night, it’s not as if I would have heard it at Babylon.” His thumb began to rub small circles on Justin’s palm. “I’ll be there. Christ, half an hour, all right? Yeah.” He clicked off the phone and tossed it roughly onto the coffee table. Then he rubbed his face and groaned. Turning, he looked at Justin as he ceased his ministrations to his back. “How much time do you have tonight?” 

“All night. Why?”

“Feel like a field trip?” 

 

Justin couldn’t help the huge smile that spread across his face as Brian stood in the doorway to the hospital room in a state of obvious shock. 

“Oh my God.” Brian stepped closer to the bed, his gaze fixed on the blonde woman holding the small blue bundle.

“Say hello to your son.” The slightly frazzled blonde woman looked up at them and smiled, her eyes seemingly torn between the look on Brian’s face and the baby in her arms.

Justin was surprised when Brian looked back at him. Stepping forward, he placed a hand on the small of Brian’s back, rubbing a gentle circle, as he had so often done with Finlay when the boy needed comforting. When Brian’s eyes met his, he smiled, and lightly pushed the man forward.

Brian tried to hold his grin back as he stepped closer to the bed and leaned over to look at the small face hidden in the blue blanket. Silently, he slipped his hands under the infant’s back and began to lift him from his mother’s arms.

“Mel wants to name him Abraham, after her grandfather, but I like Gus,” Lindsay said pointedly.

Brian looked over at Justin, motioning him closer with a nod of his head. “What do you think?” He stepped closer to Justin, and the younger man slipped his arm around his waist. With his free hand, he reached forward and pushed the light blue blanket away from the baby’s face.

“Let him decide.” He looked up at Brian with a gentle smile. “He’ll let you know what he likes.” Justin returned his attention to the baby, lightly stroking his soft cheek.

“Here, you hold him for a minute, maybe he’ll divulge his secrets to you.” Brian gently placed his son in Justin’s arms, much to the obvious dismay of the two women sitting on the bed.

“Brian . . .” Lindsay looked pointedly at the young man now holding her infant son. 

“It’s fine, Lindz.” He leveled his gaze at her, daring her to say any more with Justin present. Then he focused his attention on the young man in question, taking note of the easy way he held the child, lightly rocking him as he talked to the boy.

“So, you have two choices, little man. Abraham or Gus. So choose wisely, okay? And let us know what you like. So . . . how do you feel about Abraham?” The little face scrunched up with seeming displeasure. “Okay,” Justin continued, laughing softly. “What about Gus?” The baby smacked his lips a couple times, then blew out a gentle puff of air. “Well, I think we have our answer. I have just been informed that your son would prefer to be called Gus.” He grinned at the two women, and then at Brian, before handing Gus back to his father.

“Thank you very much, and who the hell are you?”

“Mel!” Lindsay glared at her partner for a moment, then returned her attention to Brian and Justin.

“It’s all right, I completely understand. I mean, you don’t know me, and here I am on the night your son is born . . . I really am sorry if I’m overstepping my bounds,” Justin replied hastily. “He’s a beautiful little boy.” He gazed at Gus again, taking in the way Brian’s strong hands supported his back and head, and the way his eyes lit up as he looked at his child. He briefly wondered if he had looked anything like that when Finlay had been born. It was unlikely—he’d probably been in shock, given the course of events that night and his son’s premature arrival.

“You’re not overstepping anything,” Brian said quietly, looking at Justin again and offering a small smile. “But we should probably get going. I’m sure Sonny Boy here needs his rest. A few hours in this world can be exhausting.” He gently traced the outline of the boy’s cheek, then kissed his forehead before handing him back to Lindsay. “You get some rest too, okay?” He smiled at her and brushed a stray hair from her forehead before leaving.

 

Justin lay on the smoky blue duvet covering Brian’s bed and stared at the ceiling. Their shoulders were touching, and Brian’s hand had found its way onto Justin’s inner thigh.

“Brian?” Justin’s voice was little more than a whisper.

“Hm?” He turned his head slightly and found himself staring into crystal-blue eyes, sparkling brighter than any gemstone or body of water that he had ever seen.

“Thank you. For tonight.”

“We haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Well, yeah, but I meant about taking me to the hospital with you. Letting me meet your son. That was definitely not what I was expecting to have happen tonight.”

“What did you expect?” he replied, grinning at Justin.

“Well. . . .” He rolled over, then climbed atop Brian, straddling him, his knees on either side of the other man’s waist. He slipped his hands under the hem of Brian’s shirt, running his fingers along his ribs, then up, until he found his nipples, eliciting a slight groan from him. “There are a few things.” Justin leaned forward until his lips met Brian’s, his tongue slipping inside his mouth, exploring every crevice, slowly at first, and then, as Brian’s fingers found their way into Justin’s hair, with more urgency.

“Justin?” Brian gasped as he pulled his lips away from the younger man’s.

“Hm?” His reply was muffled, as he was now kissing and licking the underside of Brian’s jaw.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Mm, that would be no.” He pushed Brian’s shirt up and began kissing his torso. “But I know what I want. And right now, I want you.”

 

Before Justin returned to consciousness, he was aware of two things—the first was that his body ached in a way that it never had before, and that the feeling wasn’t at all unpleasant. The second thing he realized was that Brian had curled up against him in the night, thrown one arm over his waist, slid one leg between his, and had buried his head in the crook of his neck. Justin smiled, then glanced at the alarm clock.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed quietly.

“Mm, in a little while,” Brian whispered tiredly.

“Hey. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay. What time is it?”

“Seven thirty. I need to be home by eight.”

“Any chance you could be a little late? Can’t have you going home like this.” Brian trailed a lazy finger across Justin’s chest, drawing his attention to the semen that had dried there during the early morning hours.

“Fuck, you’re right. I’d never hear the end of it.” He could imagine Daphne wrinkling her nose, asking what had died the moment he walked into his apartment. The last thing he needed was to try and explain the end result of three solid hours of fucking. Not that he owed her any explanations. “Just let me call and see what I can do.”

“Okay. I’ll start the coffee. You want some?”

“Sure.” He watched as Brian climbed out of bed and made his way down the steps leading from the bedroom to the kitchen. There had to be a way to capture the man’s gracefulness on paper—that was going to be his next self-imposed art project.

He reached over the side of the bed and retrieved his phone from the pocket of his jeans. He quickly found Daphne’s number and dialed it.

“Hi, Justin,” she said, picking up after only the first ring. 

“Hey. How’s everything going?”

“We’re great. Finlay slept most of the night, just one diaper change needed. I’m in the middle of giving him his breakfast now. Mashed bananas and cheerios.”

“Fantastic. Listen, um . . . is there any chance you could stay maybe a little longer? Something’s kind of . . . come up.” 

“Hm, yeah, I’ll bet it has.”

“Daphne!”

“Sorry, I know, completely inappropriate since, technically, you’re my boss. But come on, dish a little.”

“Yes, all right? Now, seriously, can you stay a couple more hours? I promise I’ll be there by ten, ten-thirty at the latest. I’ll pay you triple time for those couple of hours.”

“You don’t have to do that, Justin. I love hanging out with Finlay. Plus, your apartment is junkfood heaven.”

“Uh huh. Thanks a lot, I really appreciate this.”

“I know,” she replied quietly. “So, you have two, two and a half hours, use them wisely and go get some!”

“Daphne!”

“Bye.”

When Brian returned from the kitchen he found Justin lounging against the pillows, his cell phone abandoned on the nightstand. He raised his eyebrow questioningly as he gazed at the younger man.

A small smile graced Justin’s lips. “I have until ten-thirty.”

“And what excuse did you use?”

“Something came up.” He pushed the sheet aside, then stood and made his way over to Brian. His skin glowed pink as Brian’s eyes raked appreciatively over his pale body.

“I see. Guess we’ll have to do something about that.” He leaned forward, placing a light kiss on Justin’s lips before dropping to his knees.

 

An hour later they had managed to fuck, shower, and dress, Justin wearing the same jeans from the day before and one of Brian’s white tee shirts, since his own shirt had somehow gotten stained over the course of the night’s activities, and Brian was dressed in a pair of jeans and a black wifebeater. Justin poured the steaming coffee into the mugs Brian had gotten out earlier, while the other man retrieved sugar and milk and set them on the counter.

“So what do you do? Like for a living?” Justin asked, as he took a seat on the barstool to Brian’s left.

“Advertising. Making people buy shit that they really don’t need.”

“I take it you enjoy that.” Justin grinned at him, then gently bumped his shoulder with Brian’s.

“Yeah, it’s fun. I’m sure most people wouldn’t think that it could be, but I’ve always enjoyed it. What about you? Still in high school?”

“I’m just finishing up my degree, hoping to get it done as soon as possible so I can move on to other things. Looking into colleges, that sort of thing. I think I’m going to do a double major, business and art, maybe go into graphic design or something.”

“You think you’ll like that?” Brian brought his cup to his lips, took a sip, and focused once again on Justin.

“I think so. I guess I’ll know for sure when I get an internship.”

“Will you be going to school in Pittsburgh?” Brian watched, bemused, as Justin, who had just drained the last of his coffee, nodded. “Well, the University of Pittsburgh is a good school. Lindsay’s an art professor there, she teaches mostly art history courses. And there’s Duquesne, that’s a good one. Carnegie Mellon. But, I’d suggest the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Art.”

“Why’s that?”

“You lean more toward art than business, don’t you?” At Justin’s barely perceptible nod, Brian continued. “They have a very demanding art program. Future employers will immediately notice someone with a degree from the IFA. Now, combine that with a business degree, regardless of where you get it, and you’ll have offers rolling in well before you’ve even graduated.”

“You think so?” A huge smile lit up Justin’s face as he momentarily let his mind drift to the kind of life he could create for himself and Finlay if his future was as bright as Brian was predicting. With any luck he wouldn’t have to touch the majority of the settlement money and Finlay would never have to worry about whether or not he would be able to afford to attend the university of his choice.

“I think so.” Brian smiled and leaned closer to Justin, his lips finding the younger man’s, his tongue slipping into his mouth as he listened to Justin’s small groan and to the . . . scraping of metal as the loft door was slid open?

“Brian?”

The two men pulled apart, albeit reluctantly, and turned to face the intruder.

“Mikey, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“When you didn’t meet us for breakfast like you said you would I became a little worried. I called, like, six times, and there was no answer.”

“So you thought you’d come into my home uninvited to check up on me? It never occurred to you that I might have been busy?”

“Not in the morning, no. You never let tricks spend the night.” Michael glared at Justin, silently daring him to say anything. Justin returned his steady gaze and remained silent for a moment, before turning his attention away from Michael and returning it to Brian.

“I really should get going anyway. I can’t be any later getting home.” He stood, Brian standing with him, stepping close and looking down at the slightly shorter man.

“Let me give you a ride.”

“Brian!”

“What, Michael?”

“We still have time for brunch.”

“If we were supposed to meet at the diner then you must have already been there. Why didn’t you eat then?”

“I was worried about you.”

“For no real reason. As you can see, I’m fine.” He wrapped his arm around Justin’s shoulders, drawing the man even closer. “So, where do you live?”

“A few blocks from Liberty, actually. If you’re going to the diner, I could walk from there.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I could use some time to collect my thoughts before walking through the front door.” He grinned at Brian, then said quietly, “You blew my mind last night.”

“That wasn’t all I blew.” Brian dipped his head and pressed a quick kiss to Justin’s lips. He then turned his attention to his friend. “Did you walk here?”

“Ted dropped me off.”

“Okay. We’ll go to the diner, get brunch, and you can tell me whatever it is that I’m sure you need to tell me, including why I should let you keep the key I gave you only for emergencies.”

 

From his position in the front seat of the Jeep, Justin couldn’t see the glares Michael was directing at him, but he could feel the Arctic chill emanating from the back of the vehicle. That chill only got stronger when Brian reached over and gently rubbed the back of Justin’s neck. The younger man smiled and leaned into Brian’s touch for a moment before capturing his hand and raising it to his lips to lightly kiss his palm, licking it slightly before releasing Brian’s hand.

Once they arrived at the diner, Michael made his way to the door, sure that Brian was right behind him and that the twink had finally been sent packing. He found instead that Brian had pushed the younger man up against the side of the Jeep and appeared to be in the process of devouring him whole.

“I really wish I didn’t have to say goodbye,” Justin murmured as he nipped at Brian’s neck.

“Then don’t,” Brian replied quietly, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He retrieved his business card and handed it to Justin.

The younger man stared at it for a moment, taking in the raised lettering, as well as the neatly scrawled home number on the back. His eyes then focused on the name on the card.

**  
BRIAN A. KINNEY  
RYDER-KINNEY ADVERTISING  
**

“You’re Irish?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve always had a soft spot for the Irish,” Justin replied, grinning at Brian as he slipped the card into his pocket. “I don’t have a lot of free time, but I’d like to see you again.”

“Strictly casual, no strings attached?”

“That’s probably for the best right now.”

“Lots of fucking?” Brian offered his trademark tongue-in-cheek grin.

“Of course.” Justin leaned forward and pressed his lips against Brian’s. “Later.” 

“Later.” Brian let go of Justin and stepped back. He watched as the young blonde walked away, only turning to Michael when Justin was lost amid a throng of people further down the street. 

“What the fuck was that?” Michael demanded as he and Brian made their way to an empty booth.

“That was none of your business.” 

“Hi boys.” They looked up to see Debbie in all her wig-bedecked glory. “I see Michael finally tracked you down.” She gave Brian a pointed look.

“Yeah. Funny how that’s what happens when someone bursts into your home uninvited.”

“Well, you should have answered the fucking phone,” the woman stated.

“Sorry, didn’t hear it, I was too busy fucking in the shower. Call me crazy, but that seems preferable to eating breakfast.”

“You were practically still fucking when I walked in the door.”

“Again, unannounced.”

“Ma, you should’ve seen this kid, he looked like he was twelve!”

“Brian . . .”

“Christ, Deb! What the fuck kind of person do you think I am?”

“All I’m saying is you have to be careful; kids are always lying about their age.”

“Can we please just stop talking about this? And can I get a cup of coffee?”

“I still think you’re making a big mistake, Brian,” Michael said, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.

“Well, it’s really none of your business.” Brian glared at his friend, silently daring the other man to say anything else. Then he smiled and dropped the one tidbit of information guaranteed to get Michael’s attention. “Lindsay had the baby last night.”

“Oh my God! Why didn’t you call me?”

“Slipped my mind, I guess. There was a lot of excitement last night. Anyway, his name is Gus.”

“Don’t tell me you picked that out?” Michael’s face scrunched up in obvious displeasure.

“Nope, Gus did, apparently.” His mind flashed back to Justin holding his son and asking him to pick a name. That, surely, was not something Michael needed to know. “It was either Gus or Abraham, and I have it on good authority that Gus was his preferred choice.”

“I still can’t believe it. You have a kid.”

“Who has a kid?” Deb set a steaming mug in front of Brian.

“Brian.” Michael grinned up at his mother.

“What! When?”

“Late last night. He’d already been born by the time Mel got in touch with me. You should see him, Deb, he’s amazing. We got to the hospital and there he was, you know? He actually looks a lot like I did when I was a baby. I didn’t think the resemblance would be quite so noticeable right away.”

“Hey, wait, what do you mean, ‘we’?”

“Well, he is your kid, he’s bound to look something like you,” Debbie pointed out.

“Brian!”

“Christ, Mikey, will you give it a rest?”

“You took him, didn’t you?”

“Yes, all right? I couldn’t very well leave him in my loft while I went to the hospital.”

“You could have told him to leave.”

“Yes, but we hadn’t gotten to the sex yet, so I had to make sure he was still around.” He sipped his coffee, then set it down and stared at Michael for a moment. “It doesn’t mean anything, all right? If we’d been hanging out, I would have brought you. But I was with Justin, so I asked him to come. He didn’t seem to mind.”

“Ever think that maybe I would?”

“I didn’t realize that who I chose to take with me to see my son was your decision.” He stood, pulled his wallet from his pocket, and dropped a ten onto the table. “I have things to do, and I’m sick of dealing with your pissy attitude. When you’re ready to stop being jealous of a guy you met for all of two seconds, then you can call me.” He turned and walked out of the diner, leaving a shocked Michael sitting alone.

 

When Finlay spotted his father, the little boy began to bounce excitedly on Daphne’s lap. Justin was a little surprised to see them sitting on the stoop of the building, but he knew they were both fine, so he let his momentary worry drift away.

Finlay let out a squeal of delight and reached for his father. Justin gently lifted him from Daphne’s lap and settled him against his chest.

“Hey, baby. Did you have fun with Daphne? I’m sure you did,” he said, the last few words coming out garbled as Finlay poked a chubby finger into his father’s mouth. Justin carefully pried his son’s hand from his mouth, then turned his gaze to Daphne. “What are you two doing out here?”

“Finlay seemed to be getting bored. Watching the people and cars go by seemed just the thing to perk him up.” She looked at him for a moment, her brows knitting in obvious confusion. “Weren’t you wearing a black shirt when you left last night?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” He grinned, then sat beside her on the step, turning his son around so the boy could watch the passersby again. “I had such a great night, Daph!”

“Care to elaborate? I mean, I know I’m just the babysitter . . .”

“You’re not just the babysitter, Daph. I’ve come to think of you as a friend, even though we haven’t known each other very long.”

“Well, then, I’m glad we’re friends.” Daphne laughed, then wrapped her arm lightly around Justin’s shoulders. “And as your friend, I have the right to demand a few details regarding your night of debauchery. So spill.”

“All right, all right,” he conceded, grinning. “So . . . I guess the first thing I should mention is that I’m gay.”

“Huh? Oh. Oh!”

“Yeah. Shannon was the only other person who knew. I told her before we got married. We’d planned to get divorced eventually, once we could provide for Finlay without any assistance. Anyway, that’s all a moot point.”

“Right. So back to last night,” Daphne urged, hoping to divert her new friend’s attention to happier memories.

“Last night.” He nodded slightly. “So . . . I went down to Liberty, just to check it out and I met this guy. He’s beautiful, Daph. Tall, graceful, amazing hazel eyes . . . and he was really nice. So we went back to his place, and we talked for a little while, and just when things started getting a little heated he got a phone call. He had to be somewhere so he took me with him.”

“Where’d you end up?”

“Allegheny General.”

“What the fuck did you go there for?”

“To meet his newborn son.” He gazed at his own child for a moment, then looked over at Daphne, whose mouth was hanging open in apparent shock. “Careful, flies.” He laughed quietly as the girl snapped her mouth shut. “It was amazing, seeing him hold his son for the first time. I don’t think I was like that with Finlay, but the circumstances were so vastly different. Brian even let me hold him. I don’t think his son’s mothers liked that too much.”

“Mothers?”

“Yeah, they’re lesbians. Oh, and I sort of helped pick his name—Gus.”

“Gus?”

“Well, it was either that or Abraham. Gus seemed to think it was better. I just asked him which he preferred. I did the same with Finlay when he was born. His mother couldn’t decide what she wanted to call him, Finlay or Eamon.”

“Finlay’s definitely the better name. Go on with the story.”

“Okay. So we left the hospital and went back to his place and things . . . I don’t know, I guess they picked up where they left off. Christ, I think I only got about three hours of sleep. I can’t believe how much energy I have.” He grinned. “I guess that’s what happens, though.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on his son’s head. “So we fucked in the shower, then got dressed and had coffee and we were talking about colleges, because I’m still trying to figure out where to apply, so he gave me his suggestions. He thinks PIFA would be the best for the art degree, and he said it doesn’t really matter where I get the business degree. Anyway, we were sort of kissing a little, and his friend just walked into his apartment without even being invited. I mean, this guy is so rude. And Brian was pretty pissed at him, but I could tell he was trying to keep it mostly in check.

“His friend, Michael, was all annoyed that Brian hadn’t met him for breakfast like he’d said he would, so he insisted they go to brunch instead. So we all ended up at the Liberty Diner and Brian and I said goodbye. Oh, and he gave me his number, and we agreed that maybe we’d see each other again, as long as it’s a strictly casual relationship.”

“Do you really want that?”

“Well, honestly, I would love to be in a long-term relationship, but how realistic is that? I don’t think there are many guys who’d want to seriously date a teenage single father, do you?”

“But Brian has a kid, too.”

“Yeah, but he’s going to be a drop-in dad. At least that’s what I’d assume, since Gus has two mothers. And I think Brian likes to party a lot. I doubt if he wants to be tied down, and raising a child is a huge commitment in terms of emotions, energy, time, money. You name it.”

“So you didn’t tell him about Finlay?”

“There didn’t seem to be a reason to at the moment. Like I said, we’ve only just met.” He shifted slightly so that he could reach into his back pocket and retrieved Brian’s business card. He stared at it for a moment. “I’m going to call him, though, Daph. He’s a great guy and I really like him and, honestly, I need to unwind once in a while, and the sex was fantastic, so I can’t really think of a better way to relax.”

“But is that fair to him?”

“It’s what he wants, too.”

“All right,” she replied, looking at the card Justin held in his hand. “Brian Kinney? Ryder-Kinney Advertising? Shit, Justin!”

“What?”

“He’s one of the owners of the company. That’s the biggest, and most respected, advertising agency in Pennsylvania. Christ, how old is he?”

“I don’t know. Thirty, tops. He’s hot, though, Daph. Speaking of hot,” he said, directing his attention to his son, “we’d better get you inside before you burn.”

“Oh, your mom called last night,” Daphne said a moment later as they stepped into the elevator.

“Yeah? What did she want?” Justin pushed the button for the fourth floor.

“She didn’t say. I think she was a bit surprised when I answered the phone.” Her eyes shifted to her reflection in the elevator doors. “She seemed upset when I mentioned you’d gone out. She wanted to know exactly where you were and when I couldn’t tell her, I swear I thought she was going to have some kind of meltdown.”

“Fuck. Great.” They stepped off the elevator. Justin quickly unlocked the door and entered his apartment. “First things first . . .” He set Finlay on a blanket Daphne had laid out on the floor earlier and set several brightly-colored toys within reach. Then he went to his desk and found his checkbook. He paid Daphne, thanked her, and watched as she gave Finlay one last kiss, then headed out of the apartment.

Justin moved over to the couch and sat down heavily. Then he retrieved Brian’s business card and stared at it for a moment, before grabbing his cell phone and punching in Brian’s home number. After three rings the machine picked up.

“Hi Brian, it’s Justin Taylor. I know you’re probably not home yet, but I wanted to call and say again what a great time I had last night. I also wanted to leave you my cell number. It’s 334-6197. I don’t always answer it, but I check my voicemail all the time, so if you want, give me a call sometime. Later.” Justin snapped his phone shut and looked over at Finlay. The little boy’s toys had been forgotten and his eyes were nearly shut.

Justin went over and picked him up, cradling him gently in his arms as he carried him into his room. He kissed the baby’s forehead, then carefully placed him in his crib. He returned to the living room and, having decided that there was no time like the present, placed a call to his mother.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom. Daphne said you called last night?” No need to exchange pleasantries, he thought, since he was bound to be bombarded by criticism anyway.

“Yes, I did. I just wanted to check up on you. Justin, do you think it’s wise to leave Finlay?”

“Daphne has been his regular babysitter since we moved here. He loves her, and she’s really good with him.”

“You have to be careful, Justin. Maybe you should come back to Chicago. We can take care of Finlay and you can go back to being a teenager.”

“We?”

“Your father and I. It would be wonderful having a baby around again.”

“Dad has never wanted anything to do with Finlay. Or me, for that matter.”

“Oh, Justin, that’s just not true.” Jennifer sighed heavily before continuing. “This has just all been so hard for him. I think if Finlay were with us on a regular basis--.”

“No fucking way! Finlay is _my_ son. Dad can’t accept that, and it’s starting to seem as though you’re having trouble with the concept, too. So let me lay it all out for you in simple terms. Finlay is my son. _I’m_ his father. Regardless of the circumstances surrounding his birth, that’s how it is. _I_ will be the one raising him. When I end up in a serious relationship, _we_ will raise him.

“And if all of this has been hard for Dad, how do you think it’s been for me? For Finlay? My son will never know his mother. He’ll probably never know her parents, because they’ve made it clear that all they want is the occasional picture. He needs a support system, people who will love him and care for him, let him be the person he’s meant to be. I intend to provide that for him.”

“Your intentions are all well and good, Justin, but you’re just too young for so much responsibility.”

“Mom, listen to me. Are you listening? Because I am _not_ repeating this again. This is the last time we will have this conversation. In the last year and a half I have gotten married, become a father and a widower on the same day, stayed with my child the entire week he was in the NICU after the accident, leaving only to attend his mother’s, my wife’s, funeral. I’ve made sure he is healthy. I took the settlement, even though I would have liked nothing better than to drag that fucking company to court and make them pay for what they’ve done to us, just so that I could guarantee that Finlay and I would have a secure and independent future. That’s what Shannon would have wanted in all of this. She would have wanted us to be provided for.”

“But you could have stayed in Chicago, Justin,” his mother pleaded.

“No, I couldn’t.” He stood and made his way into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of soda from the refrigerator and a bottle of regular aspirin from the cupboard by the sink. “I couldn’t have stayed in Chicago, because as long as I did, my parental authority would have been constantly usurped. Every decision would have been questioned. It’s bad enough that you’re constantly calling me and doing it from a distance.”

“I just think you need some help, Justin. Regardless of what you’ve been through, you don’t know how to be a parent.”

“And did you know how when I was first born? I’m learning, and I think I’m doing a pretty good job.”

“I’m sure you’re doing fine, Justin. I’m just worried.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine.” He swallowed the aspirin, then began rubbing the knot that had formed in the back of his neck. “I can’t talk about this anymore, okay? I can’t just sit here and take everything you dish out at me. You hardly ever saw me or Finlay after he was born, so you don’t know what kind of parent I am, so I think it would be best if you would stop assuming that you know what’s best. I need to get on with my life, create a good home for my son. That’s all I’m concerned with right now. And if I truly believed that you were concerned about it, too, then I’d be willing to talk to you. But all you want to do is dictate how I run my life, and how Finlay grows up, and I won’t have that. So goodbye.” He turned off the phone and set it on the counter. Then he quietly made his way into his son’s room. Watching the little boy always seemed to calm him, regardless of the situation. Just making sure that his son was safe, protected from the world, at least for as long as he could protect him, always made Justin feel better.


	3. Always

Three days later, while Justin was at work, his cell phone began vibrating in his pocket. His boss was on his lunch break, and he was just stocking shelves, so he slipped into the storeroom to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Justin? It’s Brian.”

“Hi.” He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face and seeping into his voice. “It’s good to hear from you.”

“Actually, I thought I’d end up leaving a message. I figured you were in class or something.”

“I’m at work. I hated the whole high school experience, so I decided to finish up through night school a few days a week. Leaves me time for other things, like work.”

“Yeah, high school was a miserable experience. Well, anyway, since you’re at work I won’t keep you. I was just wondering if you wanted to do something tonight.”

“Such as?”

“Hm, I was thinking dinner. After that, who knows?”

“What time?

“Um, what time do you get done with work?”

“Four thirty.”

“Okay. I can leave anytime, though I should probably stay until five.”

“Okay. I’ll have to check. Can I call you back?”

“Yeah, sure. Call my work number, my assistant will put you through.”

“Okay. Later.”

“Later.”

Justin pressed the disconnect button and glanced at the clock on the phone’s display. 2:08. Another smile spread across his face as he began dialing Daphne’s number. She picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Justin, what’s up?”

“I just heard from Brian. What are your plans for tonight?”

“Homework. Which I can very easily do while watching Finlay. So what time do you need me?”

“Um, is there any chance you could meet me at Finlay’s daycare? Cause Brian gets done at five, so I was thinking I might be able to meet him at his office. I need to run that by him, of course. But if we can meet at the daycare, then I can see Finlay for a minute, give you the car seat, and a key to my apartment.”

“Sure. What time?”

“How about 4:40? That’s what time I usually pick him up.”

“Sounds good. How late do you need me to stay?”

“Um . . . ten?”

“Sure, no problem. I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

“Thanks, Daph, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Yeah, yeah. Later.”

“Later.” He ended the call, then quickly dialed Brian’s work number.

“Brian Kinney’s office, Cynthia speaking.”

“Hi. This is Justin Taylor, Brian’s expecting my call.”

“Oh, hi Justin, I’ll put you right through.”

“Thanks.”

A moment later Brian came on the line. “Hey Justin. So, what’s the word?”

“I can stay out until ten. But I have to do a little running around after work. So would it be okay if I meet you at your office?”

“Yeah, that’d be fine. Maybe I can give you a quick tour of the art department.”

“That would be fantastic.”

“Well, when you get here just give your name to Mary in the lobby, then I’ll send Cynthia down to show you up, okay?”

“Sounds great. See you in a couple hours, then.”

“Later.”

“Later.”

 

Justin stood outside the tall steel building that housed Ryder-Kinney Advertising. There was no doubt that the building was impressive from the outside and Justin was sure that, once he made his way through the thick glass revolving door, he would be duly impressed with its interior. Yet when he stepped inside, he realized that impressive didn’t accurately describe the richness. The walls were painted an immaculate white, with bright paintings hung at various points. There was plush white leather furniture along one wall, as well as a couple of large potted trees. The floors were of a black marble, polished to perfection.

He gazed around for a moment, taking everything in, then made his way to the large circular reception desk that dominated the room. The woman sitting at the desk, Mary, Brian had said her name was, didn’t look up at his approach, so he cleared his throat a couple of times to get her attention.

“Yes?” she asked coolly, her eyes raking over him with disdain.

“I’m here to see Brian Kinney.”

“If you have a package for him, I’ll take it.”

“No, there’s no package. He wanted to see me.”

“And what is this regarding?”

“It’s a personal matter.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his olive-green cargo pants. At first he had felt a little out of place, dressed in his cargo pants and plain black tee-shirt, but once the woman started acting as though he were beneath her, he stopped caring. She could look down at him all she wanted.

“I can’t just let you go in.”

“Yes, I know, which is why Brian said that Cynthia would come down once I got here. Maybe you should call up to his office. I’m sure once you do, everything will be straightened out.” He glared at her for a moment, before she reached for the phone. 

“What’s your name?”

“Justin Taylor.” He remained standing where he was while the woman placed the call.

“Cynthia, it’s Mary. Good. There’s a young man here, Justin Taylor. He’s says he’s here to see Mr. Kinney, but . . . all right . . . very well.” She hung up the phone and returned her attention to Justin. “Someone will be right down.”

“Thank you,” he replied quietly, before turning and wandering over to one of the paintings that adorned the wall. He looked at the name on the plaque below it. Lindsay Peterson. And it dawned on him that the painting had been done by Gus’s mother. Turning away from the painting, he made his way over to the white sofa and was about to sit down when the elevator doors opened and Brian stepped out, wearing a beautifully tailored black Armani suit. 

“Mr. Kinney--,” Mary began, as he walked past the desk, ignoring her, to where Justin was standing.

“Hi,” Brian said, leaning down and lightly kissing the younger man, much to Mary’s shock.

“Hi. That’s quite the welcome.”

“You know I could do so much better,” he replied with a grin. “But this is, after all, a place of business.”

“Of course.” Justin smiled up at him. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

“Although I’m feeling a bit underdressed.”

“Don’t. Besides, you’ll fit right in with the art department. Come on.” Placing his hand on the small of Justin’s back, he led him to the elevator, then pushed the button for the sixteenth floor. “I just have to get a few things from my office, then we can stop by the art department on the way out.”

“Sounds good.” He grinned at Brian for a moment. “So I’ll get to see the inner sanctum where the genius advertiser bides his time?”

“It’s amazing how you know me so well already,” Brian chided, tongue in cheek, as they stepped off the elevator and into another immaculately decorated area. “All of the executive offices are up here.” He led Justin to the end of the hall, then turned into another area with yet another lobby. A woman with long, blonde hair was sitting at a very ornate desk.

“Oh, Brian, Marty just stopped by, he wanted to see you before you leave.”

“What the fuck does he want now?”

“No idea. Something about the McAlister shoe account.”

“Tell him if he wants to talk he can come in here and do it while I’m getting my things ready to leave, okay?”

“Will do, boss,” she said, smiling at Justin, then turning and walking away.

“Marty’s my business partner,” Brian explained, as he opened his briefcase and began tossing files into it.

“So how long have you worked here?” Justin asked, wandering over to the side of Brian’s desk and looking out the large window at downtown Pittsburgh.

“Um . . . let’s see. I interned here for a year while I was in college, and then was hired as a copywriter. Two years later I was a junior exec, and last year I was named a partner.”

“That’s a pretty quick progression. You must work really hard.”

“Yeah, but it’s paid off, so I can’t really complain.” He smiled at Justin, then went back to sorting through his files as another man stepped into the office.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said, spotting the blonde.

“Justin Taylor, Marty Ryder. I was just going to show Justin around the art department. He’s considering becoming a graphic artist, so I thought he might like to look around.”

“Very well.” He studied the young man for a moment, before turning back to his partner. “It seems the McAlister people are having a small problem with the boards we have for them.”

“And that problem would be?”

“They’re not really sure. They said it’s just not popping out at them.”

“And when do they need this?”

“Two days.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding, Marty! They saw the boards two weeks ago, why the fuck couldn’t they have mentioned then that it didn’t ‘pop out at them’?”

“I don’t know, Brian. All I know is that it needs to be fixed, and it can’t be fobbed off on one of the juniors because it’s too valuable an account.”

“Fuck. Fine, I’ll deal with it. You’re going to owe me for this one, Marty,” he said, as the older man handed him a stack of black foamcore boards. He watched as the man walked away, then called for Cynthia.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Get me every last note from every meeting we’ve had relating to the McAlister shoe ads.”

“Sure thing.”

“Brian? If this is a bad time, we could do this later,” Justin said quietly.

“No, it’s fine. I really want to spend some time with you, and I’m not going to let Marty and McAlister and whoever the fuck else ruin that. You’ll have my attention until you have to go, okay?” He stepped closer to Justin, placed his arms over the shorter man’s shoulders, and gently kissed him.

“Okay,” Justin whispered, leaning forward and returning the kiss, this time with much more fervor. 

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” 

Looking up, they saw Cynthia standing in the doorway, one hand over her mouth and the other holding several manila folders. Justin buried his face against Brian’s neck and started giggling, causing Brian to laugh quietly as well.

“It’s okay, Cyn, don’t worry about it. Now you know I’m human after all.”

“I’ve always known that, asshole,” she said affectionately, entering the room and dropping the files onto his desk. “I’ve just never seen it demonstrated.” She gazed at the two of them for a moment. “No wonder you’re so pissed at Marty. Have a romantic evening planned?”

“Something like that.” He slipped out of Justin’s embrace and tossed the files into his briefcase. He added a few computer disks, then snapped the case shut. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. A quick tour of the art department, and then I need a drink.” Brian grabbed his briefcase, wrapped his arm around Justin’s shoulders, and ushered him out of the office.

 

“So, if you don’t mind my asking,” Justin said a short time later, as Brian sipped from his glass of red wine, “what kind of shoe is this ad for?”

“Hiking boots.”

“And what does your current proposed ad look like?”

“It’s a guy in a kilt, wearing the boots and standing on a rock.”

“And what does the copy say?”

“Ruggedly Scottish.”

“Interesting,” he said, stabbing a cucumber and popping it into his mouth. They were quiet for a few minutes before Justin broke into a wide smile and continued. “Mind if I toss an idea at you?”

“Sure, go for it.”

“Okay, so you’ve got the Scottish bit, which makes sense. But the company wants the ad to stand out a little more, right?” Brian nodded. “So what if you used just a little bit of sexual humor? Stick the guy in the kilt in the Highlands. He’s hiking through the Highlands, which fits since it’s a hiking boot. Then drop in the humor. Okay, since guys traditionally don’t wear underwear under kilts, and the Highlands are windy, why not have the guy have an extra pair hanging from his belt, with copy that says something like, ‘In case the wind picks up’ or something like that?”

Brian set his glass down and stared at Justin, a slow smile spreading across his face. “How the fuck did you come up with that?”

“I don’t know. Sex on the brain, I guess.”

“It’s a great idea, Justin. Perfect. The slogan needs a little work, but I see what you’re getting at.” He pulled a pen and small notebook from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and began quickly writing the idea down. “You have just saved my ass. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Besides, I love your ass.”

“That goes without saying.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “For the slogan, how about ‘Sometimes you just need an extra pair’?”

“I like it. Makes sense on two levels. Extra pair of shoes to hold the kilt down, extra pair of balls for even hiking in the Highlands. Or for wearing a kilt, for that matter. But, you’re the advertising genius.”

“Would you mind if I call Marty and run the idea by him right now? Because if he goes for it, then we can really enjoy the rest of the evening without worrying about it.”

“Sure, no problem.” Justin smiled, then turned his attention to the large plate of lasagna the waiter had just delivered. 

 

“I can’t believe you told him it was my idea,” Justin said a short time later as Brian navigated the Jeep through the city streets.

“I believe in giving credit where credit is due. Speaking of credit, you’re going to get a cut of the profits from this, you know.”

“Brian, I don’t need that.”

“It was your idea, so you’re getting the credit and a cut. That’s just how it goes. Besides, everyone can use a little extra money. And it would look great on your resume, mentioning that you came up with a nationally-featured ad.”

“It’s going to be national?”

“Uh huh. So we’ll all be getting a nice chunk of change from it,” Brian replied, as he pulled into a parking space in front of his building.

“Seriously? Like, just out of curiosity, how much?”

“I don’t know. I’d guess you’ll get at least ten thousand.”

“Oh my fucking God.” Justin turned and grinned at Brian. “Thanks.”

“You’re the one I should be thanking.” He leaned over and kissed Justin for a moment, then said, “Come on, let’s get upstairs so I can thank you properly. Over and over and over.”

 

When Justin arrived home shortly before ten, it was with a bounce in his step and a huge silly grin on his face that Daphne took immediate notice of.

“I take it this night surpassed the other night?”

“They were both great. But this time I helped Brian out and, apparently, will be getting paid a ton of money for it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He had this shoe ad that he’d done a few weeks ago, and the company he’d done it for wasn’t all that thrilled with it, so while we were at dinner I helped him come up with a new ad. And he loved it. He said that since I came up with the idea, that he’s going to make sure I get the credit for it and that I get paid. So tomorrow I have to stop by his office, cause he’s gotta have a contract drawn up to assure that I’ll get paid a certain percentage. Daph, it’s going to be a nationally-known ad!”

“Oh my God, that’s so cool!”

“Yeah. And I’m going to be getting, according to Brian, at least ten thousand dollars for it. I could really use that kind of money, Daph. That’ll pay my rent for, like, the whole rest of the year. I won’t have to dip into the settlement money as much, which means more of it will go to Finlay.”

“That’s fantastic, Justin.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I should get going. My parents will kill me if I’m late.”

“Thanks for doing this for me on such short notice.”

“It’s worth it. I get to spend time with my favorite little man, and you’ve seemed a lot happier these last few days. I’m happy for you.” She kissed his cheek, then headed out the door.

He made his way into his son’s room and gazed down at the sleeping boy. “Guess what, Finlay? I think I’m falling in love. Now the question becomes, how do I tell him about you without scaring him off?” Reaching into the crib, he gently rubbed his son’s back, amazed, as always, at the child’s existence.


	4. Always

Justin was stocking shelves in the children’s section of the bookstore when he heard a voice behind him.

“Excuse me.” He turned around to discover Lindsay standing there, Gus safely strapped into his stroller.

“Lindsay. Hi. It’s great to see you again.” He gazed at the little boy. “Hi, Gus.”

“I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Yeah, um, I went with Brian to the hospital the night Gus was born.”

“Right. Of course. I’m sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention to much other than Gus that night. What was your name again?”

“Justin.”

“Right.” Gus began to fidget a little, clearly wanting to get out of the confines of the stroller.

“May I?” He gestured to the little boy.

“Um, sure, I guess,” she replied.

Justin leaned over the stroller, unclasping the straps that held the boy inside. “Come on, little man.” He picked him up and cradled him against his chest. “I can’t get over how much he looks like Brian.”

“Yeah, he’s going to be a real heartbreaker when he grows up.” Lindsay smiled, then looked at Justin with curiosity evident in her eyes. “Speaking of Brian . . . are the two of you . . .?”

“We’re friends, I think. And we sleep together from time to time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Brian’s more of a . . . how should I put this . . . ‘fuck ‘em and kick ‘em out’ kind of guy.”

“Well, I can’t control what he does. I just know that I like spending time with him, and he seems to like spending time with me. Beyond that . . . I don’t know. I don’t think either of us can handle a serious relationship right now. There’s too much else going on with both of us.”

“How long have you known Brian?”

“Um, let’s see . . . we met the night Gus was born, so about a month, I guess.” He smiled at the little boy, then pressed his lips against the boy’s forehead. “Lindsay? Gus feels a little warm.”

“It’s unseasonably warm, and we’ve been walking around.”

“Not that kind of warm. He’s got a bit of a high temperature, not too high, though. I don’t think you should worry about it unless it gets a little higher.”

Lindsay leaned forward and placed her hand on Gus’s forehead. “He feels fine to me.”

“Put your lips on his forehead, it’s easier to tell that way.” 

“Shit!” she exclaimed a moment later. “How the fuck did I not know to do that? How many high temperatures has he had without Mel or I knowing about it?”

“Don’t worry, it happens to all parents. Besides, if it had gotten dangerously high you would have been able to tell,” he said, trying to reassure her. 

“How do you know so much about babies?” She scooped her son out of Justin’s arms and snuggled him against her chest.

“Um, I have a younger sister. And I’ve always been good with kids.”

“Bet you can’t wait to have one of your own.”

“Something like that.” He gazed away for a moment, then turned his attention back to Gus. “Feel better, little man.” He kissed Gus’s forehead again, then looked up at Lindsay. “He’s going to be fine.”

“I think I’d better get him home, though.” She put Gus back in his stroller and strapped him back in.

“Okay. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

“Sure.”

Justin watched her leave, then sighed and leaned against a bookcase. Another headache was definitely coming on.

 

The two weeks following the signing of the McAlister contract were extremely busy for Justin. He had spent a day at PIFA, going on a guided tour, sitting in on a Still Life class, as well as Advanced Computer Graphics. He had also spoken to an admissions counselor and learned that PIFA preferred students who had gone the traditional route with regard to high school. He had explained his reasons for leaving his school in Chicago and for attending night school now, and she had seemed understanding of the bind he had found himself in. It was possible, she had mentioned, that if he produced outstanding work for his portfolio and then explained in his application essay his reason for not finishing his education at a regular high school, he would stand a very good chance of being accepted.

Just thinking of all the sketches, charcoal drawings, and paintings in both oil and watercolor that he would need to do just to have enough good material to submit with his application in the spring caused his head to spin. Daphne, currently applying to universities as well, was extremely understanding of his predicament and volunteered to watch Finlay free-of-charge so that Justin could pick up some extra hours and set the money aside for his art supplies. As a result, the past two weeks had been filled with caring for his son, working at the bookstore, going to night school, studying, sketching, and painting. By the time the weekend rolled around Justin was exhausted.

“Maybe,” Daphne suggested, “you should go out tonight. Track down Brian.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Seriously, Justin. Maybe he’ll be able to energize you a bit. Besides, don’t try telling me you haven’t missed him.”

“We talk on the phone all the time.”

“Not the same thing, and you know it. You, my friend, need to go get some.”

“Fuck.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the tiredness. “Maybe you’re right. Are you sure you wouldn’t mind staying with Finlay?”

“Please. I’m, like, practically his aunt now.”

“Thanks, Daph, I really appreciate it.”

Now, less than an hour later, wearing a skin-tight ice-blue tee shirt and a pair of baggy black cargo pants, Justin made his way through the throngs of writhing men and the occasional fag hag of Babylon. As he neared the bar he noticed Brian standing there, glass in hand, his back against the bar, his eyes scanning the crowd. Stepping closer to the bar, Justin realized the other man had spotted him when a genuine smile spread across Brian’s face.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Brian leaned down and pressed a quick kiss, Beam-flavored, to Justin’s lips. “Want a drink?”

“Yeah, sure, just a beer, though.”

“You okay?” Brian took the beer the bartender set before him and passed it to Justin. “You look a little tired.”

“I’ve just been really busy. My friend Daphne thought if I got away for a little while I might get some energy back.”

“Sounds like a wise woman.”

“Hey, Brian! That really hot guy over there is totally cruising you!” Michael exclaimed. “So move on, Boy Wonder.”

“Michael! Shut the fuck up!” Brian turned his attention back to Justin. He leaned forward and planted a kiss along the younger man’s hairline. “Oh, before I forget, do you think you could stop by my office sometime this week? I have that check for you.”

“Sure. Monday?”

“Sounds good.” He removed the nearly-empty bottle of beer from Justin’s hand and set it on the bar, then wrapped his arms around the shorter man’s waist. “Wanna dance?”

“Sure.”

“Later, Mikey,” Brian tossed over his shoulder as he slipped his hand into Justin’s and let the younger man lead him into the mass of sweating bodies.

Brian immediately pulled him close, his hands on Justin’s hips as he kissed and licked the younger man’s neck while they danced. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

“So am I.” Justin smiled at him, then captured his lips in a searing kiss.

“Justin?”

“Hm?” He slipped his hands under the back of Brian’s black tee shirt and began running the tips of his fingers along the other man’s skin.

“I wanna fuck you.”

“I want you to.”

“Right now.”

“Mm, okay. There’s a backroom here, right?”

“Uh huh.” Brian sucked on the side of his neck, leaving a slightly red spot on his previously unblemished skin. “Ever been in a backroom before?”

“No.”

“Well, come on, then. Fucking in a backroom is something every gay boy should try at least once.” He grinned wickedly, then wrapped his arm around Justin’s shoulders. 

Although Justin had never been in the backroom of a gay dance club before, he wasn’t at all shocked or surprised by what he found. Some of his friends in Chicago who had actually been able to get convincing fake I.D.’s had gone to check out the clubs and had told him all about the backrooms.

“You come back here a lot?” Justin asked as Brian pushed him against an empty spot along the cinderblock wall.

“Something like that.” He gazed into Justin’s brilliant blue eyes. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah. I mean, we’re not in a relationship. We agreed to keep things strictly casual.”

“True.” Brian leaned forward and kissed him for a moment. “But maybe we should talk about where, exactly, things stand between us. Because you’re not a trick because I only fuck tricks once.” He kissed him again, his tongue sweeping across Justin’s lower lip. “And you’re not a fuck buddy, because that implies that all we do is fuck.”

“How about,” Justin said slowly, placing a hand on the back of Brian’s neck and drawing him down for a kiss, “friends with benefits?”

“Sounds good. Though I’ve never fucked a friend. Not a male friend, anyway.”

“Not even Michael?”

“As much as he would like me to, no. No more about Mikey, you’ll make my dick soft.”

“And we don’t want that.” Justin grinned wickedly as Brian unbuttoned the younger man’s pants and pulled his clothing down.

“Definitely don’t want that,” Brian replied, dropping to his knees, a sight unseen as Brian never serviced anyone else; men _always_ knelt before him.

“Mm, Bri.” Justin’s voice was soft, yet it commanded the other man’s attention.

“Hm?” He looked up, taking in Justin’s flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

“Everyone’s watching.”

“Just because I’m always the one with the guys at my feet. They’ve just never seen me in this position before.” He kissed Justin’s hip. “Let’s give them a show then, shall we? Turn around.”

“Hm?”

“Remember the lesson I gave you the first time we were together?” At Justin’s nod, Brian smiled. “Well, I think it’s time for a refresher course.”

Justin’s breath caught as he felt Brian’s soft tongue against his skin. Both men were so caught up in what they were doing that neither noticed Michael watching them, his eyes stone, his mouth a thin line, and his fists clenched.

 

Shortly after their excursion in the backroom, Brian and Justin decided to head back to the loft. While Brian went to get the Jeep, Justin placed a quick call to Daphne to make sure she could stay with Finlay for the remainder of the night. He was returning the phone to his pocket when Michael exited the club and walked up to him.

“Hey, Boy Wonder.”

“My name is Justin.” 

“Like I give a shit. It’s not like you’ll still be around next week.”

“You don’t know anything.” He gazed back toward the street.

“I know that Brian will never be your boyfriend. He doesn’t do boyfriends.”

“Maybe so, but he won’t be yours either.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Look, Michael, I don’t know why you seem to dislike me so much. Maybe you see me as some sort of competition for Brian’s time. If that’s the case, let me assure you, I don’t intend to take Brian away from you. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. But, honestly, I don’t want to. He needs you.”

Brian pulled the Jeep to a screeching halt in front of where Justin and Michael stood. He grinned as Justin opened the door and climbed inside. He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Justin’s lips. Then, looking at his friend, he said, “Hey, Mikey. You need a ride?”

“No, I’m meeting Ma at the diner and walking her home.”

“Okay. See you then.” Tires squealing once again, Brian pulled the Jeep away from the sidewalk and drove toward Tremont.

 

A few hours later, having fucked themselves into near-exhaustion, the two men lay in bed, Brian smoking a cigarette, Justin’s head resting against the older man’s.

“What are you doing tomorrow around five?” Brian asked suddenly.

“Mm, I don’t know,” Justin replied, stifling a yawn. “Why?”

“Mikey’s mom, Deb, has this Sunday dinner tradition. The whole family usually shows up . . . Lindz, Mel, Michael, Ted, Emmett, Vic. I just thought maybe you’d want to come and meet everyone. Seeing as we’re friends now and all.” He looked over at Justin and grinned.

“Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, Michael really doesn’t like me.”

“He doesn’t know you. If he did, he’d probably like you. He’s just jealous because I’ve never fucked him. Besides, they’re my family, too, so he really doesn’t have a say.”

“But he’s your best friend.”

“Fuck! Christ, I just want you to meet my other friends, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do. I can’t make any promises, though.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Brian replied. He pulled the younger man closer and slowly kissed him before allowing Justin to fall asleep, his chest serving as the blonde’s pillow.

 

Justin pulled his black Honda Civic to a stop in front of an average house a short distance from Liberty Avenue. The only thing that made the house stand out from the rest was the gorgeous man standing on the sidewalk in front if it smoking a cigarette.

“Hey.” Brian leaned over and kissed him soundly. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Me too.” Justin opened the back door of the car and pulled out a white box. “German Chocolate Cake,” he replied to Brian’s questioning look. “If there’s one thing my mother taught me, it’s to never go somewhere empty-handed.”

“Hm. Okay, then.” Brian dropped the cigarette butt on the sidewalk and ground it out with the heel of his Prada boots. “Ready?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Brian led the way up the porch steps and to the front door, his arm wrapped around Justin’s shoulders. He didn’t bother knocking on the door; instead, he pushed it open and ushered Justin inside.

“Brian!”

“Hey, Deb.”

“And who is this?” she asked, eyeing the blonde.

“Deb, this is Justin. Justin, this is Michael’s mom, Deb. She works at the Liberty Diner.”

“Oh, right.” Justin smiled. “Here.” He handed her the box. “It’s a German Chocolate Cake. I hope that’s all right.”

“You didn’t have to bring anything, Sunshine, but thank you. Everyone can use a little chocolate no and then.”

“Especially since it’s an aphrodisiac,” a rather plain-looking man piped up from his spot on the couch.

“Well then, Ted, maybe we should save it entirely for you,” Brian quipped. “Anyway, introductions. You’ve already met Michael, the Munchers, and Gus. This is Ted, Emmett, and Michael’s uncle, Vic.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet everyone,” Justin said as Brian pulled him over to an empty spot on the couch.

“So, Justin, how did you and Brian meet?” Vic asked, leaning forward with a huge grin on his face, eagerly awaiting the gossip.

“Where else would they meet, other than Liberty?” Michael said snidely from his position on a nearby ottoman.

“We met outside Babylon. I’d just moved to Pittsburgh a month earlier and hadn’t seen Liberty at night yet.”

“Where are you originally from?” Emmett asked.

“Chicago.”

“Ooh . . . Boystown.”

“Yeah. But I never got to check out the clubs or anything there.”

“Well, you are awfully young, aren’t you?” Lindsay asked, as she held a sleeping Gus.

“I’ll be eighteen in a little while. So I’m really not that young.”

“So, Sunshine, what are your plans for the future?” Debbie asked upon returning from the kitchen.

“Christ, what the fuck is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” Brian stood and made his way over to Lindsay. He carefully picked up Gus and carried the little boy back to the couch.

“I was thinking of going into some aspect of graphic arts. I’m working on my portfolio for my PIFA application right now.”

“That’s a very competitive school,” Lindsay remarked.

“Yeah, but I think I can get in.”

“Still, it’s best to have a back-up plan.”

“Lindsay.” Brian shot her a warning look, and she immediately snapped her mouth shut.

Justin leaned against Brian’s arm and gazed down at Gus. “He’s gotten so big already.”

“I still can’t believe he’s here.” Brian’s voice was full of quiet awe.

“Speaking of Gus, Brian, I think we should discuss your signing over your parental rights to Mel. We _did_ discuss it before he was born.”

“Yes, we did, but we’re not discussing it tonight.”

Justin could feel the anger coming off the older man. He ran his hand under Brian’s shirt, gently caressing his back.

“If you want a cigarette or something . . .”

“Yeah, that might be a good idea,” Brian admitted. “You wanna hold him?”

“I’d love to. We can bond while you get your nicotine fix.” Justin grinned and reached over to pick up Gus. He cradled the small boy in his right arm, then lightly traced the boy’s ears, nose, and lips with his index finger. For a moment he flashed back to the first night he had been permitted to hold Finlay: he had been completely in awe of the little life in his arms, the life he had helped create, the child he would care for and nurture and, above all, love unconditionally. It didn’t take a genius to realize that Brian felt the same way about Gus, regardless of his status as a part-time father.

“Justin? I can take him.”

“It’s all right, Mel. That is, if you don’t mind. Because I certainly don’t.” He grinned down at the little boy. “I can’t get over how much he looks like Brian.” Gus awoke suddenly and began to cry. “It’s okay, Gus. It’s okay.” He stood and held Gus securely against his chest, lightly bouncing him until he calmed.

“Looks like you’re a natural, Sunshine!” Deb exclaimed.

“Something like that,” Justin replied with a smile, placing a soft kiss on Gus’s forehead, then crossing the room and handing him to Melanie. “I’m just going to step outside for a minute, if that’s all right.”

When he stepped onto the front porch, he found Brian leaning against one of the support beams. He stepped behind the taller man and wrapped his arms around Brian’s waist.

“I never thought I would love him,” Brian said quietly.

“Children are easy to love.”

“I told them I’d sign over my rights.”

“You’re allowed to change your mind, Brian.” He stepped in front of the other man and slid his cold hands inside Brian’s open jacket.

“What would you do?”

“I’d do whatever I had to to ensure my son’s happiness. If that meant retaining my rights, despite my previous feelings, and despite the opinions of everyone around me, then that’s what I would do. The child always has to come first.” He pressed a light kiss to Brian’s jaw. “But, regardless of what you decide, you’ll always be his father. You’ll be the one he wants when he says ‘Daddy’ for the first time.”

“Thanks.” He leaned down and lightly traced Justin’s lips with his tongue before delving inside to fully taste the younger man. Justin ended the kiss only when he felt another presence. Turning, the two men found Michael standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Dinner’s ready.” Then he turned and stormed back into the house, slamming the door behind himself.

“Fuck. He’s turning into such a pain in the ass.”

“And not in a good way.”

“Never,” Brian replied, visibly shuddering. He placed one more quick kiss on the blonde’s lips, then grabbed his hand. “Come on. I promise several earth-shattering blowjobs if you don’t leave me to fend for myself.”

“That’s quite the incentive. Guess I’ll have to stay,” he replied as he allowed Brian to lead him back into the house.

“Come on, you two, my manicotti waits for no one!” Deb called from the kitchen. Brian grinned and, looping his arm around Justin’s shoulders, led him into the other room.

 

Justin stared at his reflection in the mirror over the small sink in Deb’s upstairs bathroom. He knew he was young, and that he looked even younger, but did he look like the child Michael and Lindsay seemed to believe he was? Maybe he was the only one who could see the slight exhaustion tainting his features, the lessening of the sparkle his blue eyes had held before Shannon’s death, the sparkle which was only just now, and very slowly, beginning to return. He was tired of defending himself—against his mother, his father, his in-laws, even random people who, upon realizing Finlay was his son, took pleasure is silently castigating him because of his age.

He splashed some ice-cold water on his face, then quickly patted it dry with a fluffy pink towel. Life had to get easier sometime, didn’t it? Besides, it wasn’t all bad. If he could spend all of his time locked away from the world, with just Finlay and Brian, and a healthy supply of sketchbooks, he would be a happy man. As it was, he had to get back downstairs. He wasn’t really surprised, though, when he opened the door, to find Michael leaning against the opposite wall.

“Sorry. It’s all yours,” Justin said, gesturing to the bathroom as he tried to make his way past Michael.

“Not so fast, Boy Wonder.” Michael latched onto Justin’s arm, preventing him from going any further. “I know you think you love him. But Brian doesn’t _do_ boyfriends. He doesn’t believe in it. So maybe you should get over this schoolboy crush you have on him.”

“Like you’ve gotten over yours?” Justin pulled his arm away and glared at the other man. “Don’t presume to know anything about Brian and me, because you don’t know what’s going on.”

“Right. I know you’re nothing more than a trick, a convenient fuck toy. And when he gets tired of you, and he will, he’ll throw you aside like all the rest.”

“Let me clarify a few things for you, okay, Michael? Brian and I are friends. _Very_ good friends. What we do when we’re not with you is really none of your business. Just like what you and Brian do when I’m not around is none of my business. And I would _never_ assume that it was.” Turning, Justin quickly made his way downstairs.

“Are you okay?” Brian asked quietly as Justin stepped off the last of the stairs. He placed a finger under Justin’s chin and tilted his head up. He studied the younger man for a moment. “You look really tired.”

“I think everything’s just caught up with me. You know . . . work, school, getting my portfolio ready . . . I think I just need to go home and crash for a while. Raincheck on the earth-shattering blowjobs?”

“Definitely.” Brian grinned at him for a moment, then said, “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.” Neither man paid attention to the set of dark eyes following their exit. 

 

Brian stared down at Gus, who lay on a blanket on the floor, slowly chewing on his teddy’s leather hat. Lindsay was perched on the edge of the sofa watching them.

“Brian?”

“Hm?”

“What’s going on with you and Justin?”

“We’re friends.”

“But you’re sleeping together, too. Justin told me so when I ran into him a week ago at the bookstore.”

“So?”

“So . . . you’ve always had this policy of not sleeping with your friends.”

“I slept with you.”

“Years ago, Brian. And you know as well as I do that it’s not the same thing.” She fixed him with a steady glare. “I guess I’m just trying to figure out where Justin fits in with everything.”

“We’re friends. We have a good time together.”

“And you don’t find it strange that you’re in a relationship with a child? That you’re fucking a teenager?”

“We’re not in a relationship—we’re friends. Where the fuck is this coming from, Lindsay?” He turned his glowing hazel eyes on her, staring at her from his position on the floor. “I’ve never once questioned your friendships with your fellow munchers.”

“My friendships aren’t based on sex, Brian!”

“So you naturally assume that because Justin and I are fucking that there’s nothing more to our friendship?”

“He’s a teenager, Brian! Why would I think anything else? Of course he wants to sleep with you—you the older man, rich and gorgeous. Mysterious. But I don’t see how you could have much in common.”

“You think he wants a sugar daddy? You are so fucking wrong, Lindz. That’s not at all what he wants.”

“Then what about that check you gave him? Michael said it was for well over ten thousand dollars.”

“What? How the fuck did Michael find out about that?” His gaze fixed on his friend as she began pacing around the living room.

“I don’t know.” She turned to face him. “Did you really give him that check?”

“It was business, Lindz, okay? He helped me out of a jam at work. I paid him the standard consultation fee for the work he did.”

“Michael made it sound like--.”

“I can just imagine. And that is the end of this conversation. I came to see my son, not discuss my personal life.” He fixed her with a glare, silently daring her to continue the conversation.

The truth was, he did find it slightly unnerving that he enjoyed spending so much time with Justin. He had never really cared to spend much time with anyone outside his small circle of friends. That he was now spending a fair amount of his time with the younger man was bound to raise a few eyebrows. It certainly didn’t look good, but when had he ever given a fuck about what anyone else thought? Besides, it wasn’t as if Justin was a typical seventeen-year-old. There was something in his eyes that hinted at a level of maturity rarely seen in once his age. But all Michael and Lindsay appeared to see when they looked at Justin was a fair-haired, pale-skinned boy with, seemingly, no cares in the world.


	5. Always

Justin cradled his son against his chest, silent tears gathering in his eyes as the boy cried. He lightly kissed Finlay’s feverish head, then glared at the nurse’s station. He quickly wiped his tears, then stood and carried Finlay as he approached one of the nurses.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes?”

“I’ve been sitting here for over an hour and I would really appreciate it if you could get a doctor to look at my son. He’s running a fever and I’m fairly certain he has an ear infection.”

“Well, um . . .” She glanced from Justin to Finlay and back again. “There really aren’t too many doctors on staff at this late hour.”

“I don’t care. Find a doctor who can look at my son. I’ll stand right here and wait for you to track one down.” He fixed her with an angry stare as he tried to calm Finlay by rubbing gentle circles on his back. The nurse, Angie, her nametag read, picked up the phone and dialed a few numbers. Justin paid no attention to her end of the conversation, continuing instead to try and comfort his child.

“Excuse me, Mr.?”

“Taylor.”

“Mr. Taylor, Dr. Persaud will be with you shortly. She’s currently with another patient.”

“Thank you.”

Twenty minutes later Justin found himself in a small examination room, Finlay sleeping in his arms, having exhausted himself with his crying. He was staring at his son’s slightly reddened face when the door opened and a petite, middle-aged woman in rectangular glasses and a white lab coat stepped in to the room.

“I don’t believe we’ve met. You must be Mr. Taylor. Hello, I’m Dr. Persaud.” She reached forward and shook Justin’s hand, then sat in the chair across from him and flipped open the folder she had brought in. “All right. We just need to go over a few things before I take a look at Finlay. It says here that Dr. Friedlander is his regular pediatrician, but before that there was a Dr. Sullivan at St. Andrew’s Children’s Hospital in Chicago. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. The file we were sent also states that Finlay was born one month prematurely, but that he has caught up to most children in his age group with regard to his development.”

“Yes, that’s accurate.”

“All right.” She snapped the file shut. “Let’s take a look, then.”

An hour later, Justin’s suspicions regarding Finlay having an ear infection having been corroborated, he and his son returned to their apartment. Justin dropped the diaper bag and the white paper bag holding Finlay’s prescriptions on the couch, then carried the baby into his room, setting him carefully in his crib so as not to awaken him and set off another bout of screaming.

This was the only part of fatherhood Justin truly hated—seeing his son in pain and being able to do nothing to help. He didn’t know what he’d do if something more serious ever happened to Finlay. Maybe by then he’d be equipped to handle the situation with a bit more serenity than he usually did.

He glanced at the clock in the living room as he made his way from Finlay’s room to the kitchen for a bottle of water. It was nearly five in the morning. He was supposed to be at work at eight. As he returned to the living room he fished his cell phone out of the left knee pocket of his cargo pants and quickly dialed the bookstore’s number, eventually landing on the voicemail of the store’s manager, Robert.

“Hi, Robert, it’s Justin Taylor. I really hate to do this, but I won’t be in today. I hope you’ll keep this confidential, because not too many people around here know, but I have a kid, and at the moment he has a really bad ear infection. I actually just got back from the hospital. Anyway, I need to stay home with him until he’s well enough to return to daycare. Sorry again about leaving you short-handed.” He turned off his phone, then tossed it onto the footlocker. Grabbing the baby monitor, he retreated to his bedroom in the hope of getting at least a couple hours of sleep before Finlay’s medication began to wear off . . . which came a lot sooner than he’d anticipated, so at seven-thirty he found himself sitting in the rocking chair in Finlay’s room, trying to comfort the boy and get him to go back to sleep after having received a second dosage of his prescribed medications.

As Finlay continued to cry, Justin found himself wishing Shannon were still around to offer the boy a mother’s love. Perhaps that would have helped calm Finlay. Justin certainly knew _he_ would feel better if he had someone to share the responsibility of parenting with.

Despite days like this, Justin loved being a father. Gazing at Finlay as the boy began to drift asleep, Justin thought of his own father. For most of his life he and his father had had a relatively close relationship. Craig had been intent on grooming him to take over the family business and Justin, to avoid trouble, went along with his father’s assumptions, all the while knowing that he was going to be an artist, not a cutthroat, money driven businessman like his father.

Back then Justin had been fairly certain his father was proud of him. That all changed when Justin informed his parents that he was going to be a father.

“Like hell you are!” Craig stood and walked over to the ornate bar on the other side of the living room and poured himself a glass of gin. Turning, glass in hand, he stared at Justin. “Tell her to get rid of it. We’ll give her the money.”

“No.”

“What?”

“I said no. How could you even suggest that? This isn’t some random fetus we’re talking about here, this is _my_ child.”

“And you’re a child yourself.” Craig drained his glass, then slammed it on the bar. “The girl probably just wants money and figured the best way to get it would be to get knocked up.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Justin stood, intending to leave the room, but his father quickly reached him and grabbed his arm. 

“We’re not done with this conversation, Justin.”

“I think we are, because there’s nothing to discuss. I’m telling you how it is. Shannon and I are getting married a week from Tuesday at two o’clock at St. Joseph’s. If you change how you feel between now and then, you’re welcome to come.”

“I will never accept this, Justin.”

“You don’t have to. I can’t dwell on how you feel about it. I have more important concerns right now.” He left the room, but as he made his way up the stairs he could hear his father yelling, “You have two hours to get the fuck out of my house!”

He hadn’t heard from his father since and, while he regretted losing the closeness they had once had, he had no intention of trying to fix their relationship. Some things were simply beyond repair. Craig’s lack of concern over Shannon’s death and Finlay’s birth had put out the small flame of hope that he had briefly allowed to burn.

Justin stood and carefully lay his sleeping son in his crib. He knew he had made the right choice in deciding his son would come first, regardless of how anyone else felt.

By noon Justin had given up on trying to get anymore sleep. He had managed to clean the kitchen and bathroom, calm three of Finlay’s crying jags, do his English and History homework, and begin mixing his paints for a canvas he was about to begin work on. He was just about to begin adding color to the quick outline he had done when there was a soft knock at the door. Opening it, he found himself looking at Robert.

“Hi Justin,” the older man said quietly, his eyes shifting over Justin’s disheveled appearance.

“Robert. Hi. What are you doing here? Did you get my message?” He ushered his boss into his apartment.

“Yes, I got your message. I was on my lunch break and thought I’d drop by to see how things are going.” He gazed around the living room for a moment. “I guess I assumed you lived with your parents.”

“Hm? No, they’re in Chicago.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Again, Robert, I’m really sorry if I left you short-handed. But you have kids, right, so you know how it is.”

“I’m not concerned about you calling in. Tanya was glad to pick up a few extra hours. I guess I’m just curious.”

“Oh?” Justin replied as a small cry came through the baby monitor Justin had placed by his easel. “Come on, we can talk while I check on him.” He led the other man into Finlay’s room and switched on a soft light. The little boy was sitting up, tears collecting around his eyes. Justin picked him up and held him against his chest, gently rubbing his back. Finlay raised his arm and flexed his fingers. “That means he’s thirsty,” Justin said, leading the way to the kitchen. He retrieved a bottle of juice from the refrigerator and handed it to Finlay.

“So, you were saying?” Justin asked his boss as they settled on the couch.

“I guess I’m just curious about why you’ve never mentioned having a child.”

“Because people almost always have the same reaction. They get all annoyed that I have a kid when they still view me as a kid myself. Or they think, ‘Stupid fuck, getting stuck with a kid.’ Then it’s all, ‘Where’s his mother, why isn’t she taking care of him?’ I just get tired of all the looks and comments, so sometimes it’s just easier to not say anything. I don’t want people looking at Finlay like he’s a mistake. And as soon as people find out, that’s what they do.”

“I suppose they do, don’t they? But, hey, as long as you’re doing what’s right for you . . .”

“I am. Anyway, if Finlay’s feeling better in the morning I’ll be in. If not, I’ll call and let you know.”

“Fair enough.” Robert stood and made his way over to the door, Justin following close behind. “Have a good day, Justin.”

“You too.” The chubby fist waving the plastic bottle back and forth in front of Justin’s face caught his attention. Smiling at his son, he closed the door and carried the little boy over to his playpen.

It really did bother him when people, complete strangers, even, would act like it was too bad he had a child, like his life was over. When they would look at Finlay as though the little boy were an unfortunate mistake, Justin would feel the unmistakable urge to scream and yell and demand to know if _their_ children should be automatically viewed as mistakes, too.

From the moment had had found out Shannon was pregnant he had looked forward to his child’s arrival. He’d regretted the circumstances surrounding the baby’s conception—a drunken one-night stand when only sixteen wasn’t something to brag about—but he’d never regretted fathering a child.

He gazed down at Finlay, taking in the boy’s platinum-blonde hair and blue eyes shining with small flecks of green. Finlay favored his mother in small ways, the green flecks, the rosy cheeks, the already-obvious tendency toward left-handedness. Yet he was very clearly his father’s son, as he favored Justin in hair color, skin tone, and temperament, not to mention the child’s voracious appetite. 

No, Finlay could never be a mistake.

 

Two more days passed before Justin returned to work. It always amazed him the degree to which exhaustion set in _after_ having cared for Finlay while he was sick. During the actual illness Justin would be fine, caring for his son while juggling a dozen other tasks, but when the baby began to feel better his energy levels would rapidly decline.

“Are you okay, Justin?”

“Huh?” Justin turned to find Ethan Gold standing beside him at the register. The dark-haired man had begun working at the store shortly after Justin. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine, thanks.”

“Well, if you need anything . . .”

“I’m all right.”

“Um . . . okay.” He scratched the patch of hair on his chin. “I was just wondering if maybe you’d like to go out sometime. Like a date.”

“I don’t really date, Ethan. My life is too complicated and I don’t really have the time right now.”

“Oh. Um . . . we could just hang out then.”

“I can’t. I have other commitments and obligations.”

“What kinds of ‘commitments and obligations’?” Ethan took a defensive stance and crossed his arms over his chest.

“The kind that are none of your business.” A customer approached the register at that moment, causing Justin to turn his attention toward the front of the store again. “Oh, hi, Michael.”

“Boy Wonder. You look like shit.” He set down two cookbooks and a graphic novel. One step above comics, Justin couldn’t help thinking.

“Thanks.”

“Spend the last few days fucking your fellow country-club brats?”

“Keep your voice down, Michael. This is where I work.” He quickly scanned the books. “$32.73. And for your information, Michael, what I do is none of your business.”

“It is when you’re fucking around on my best friend.” He angrily shoved his change into the right front pocket of his jeans. 

“Brian and I are just friends. I’m sure he’s told you that. So there’s no possible way I could be cheating on him because he don’t have a relationship that could lead to cheating. Now goodbye, Michael. I have to get back to work.” He turned his attention back to the computer, silently waiting for both Michael and Ethan to leave him alone.

Since Tanya had covered for him during Finlay’s illness, Justin had agreed to cover for her so she could spend some time with her recently-neglected boyfriend. It was nearly seven o’clock by the time he left the store. He climbed into his car, then checked his pockets to see how much money he had. Satisfied, he started the car and headed toward Liberty Avenue.

The diner was bustling when he stepped through the door. Quickly spotting an empty stool, Justin took a seat at the counter. Debbie almost immediately noticed him.

“Hi, Sunshine! What can I get you?” She grinned as she snapped her gum. “Holy shit! You look fucking exhausted!”

“Just a little tired. A cup of coffee would be great while I figure out what else I want.”

“Coming right up.” She turned and retrieved the pot of coffee, then flipped over Justin’s cup and began filling it. “So, are you planning on hitting the bar later with the boys?”

“Oh, um, no.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Family obligations.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! Every time I see you, you’re running off to some family thing! You tell your parents you need to spend a little time being a kid.”

“I’m not a kid, and I don’t need my parents’ permission if I want to do something, okay? So can we just drop this entire conversation?”

“Fine. Let me know when you’re ready to order.” Snapping her gum one last time, she turned and walked toward the kitchen.

Justin poured some sugar in his coffee, then sipped it as he retrieved his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket. He quickly dialed his home number, not at all surprised when Daphne picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, it’s me. I’ll be home in a few minutes.”

“Okay, cool.”

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you? Because I’m at the diner right now and I was going to pick up dinner. So what do you want?”

“Justin, you don’t have to buy me dinner.”

“I know, but I want to, so what do you want?”

“You are so fucking stubborn, Taylor! Christ! A burger and fries, okay?”

“Tell Finlay I’ll be home soon and that I love him. Oh, and give him a kiss for me.”

“Don’t worry, I will. See you.”

“Bye.” Justin snapped his phone shut and returned it to his pocket, then flagged Debbie down to place his order.

 

Brian was hunched over the pool table, lining up his shot, when Michael entered Woody’s and stormed over to him.

“We need to talk.”

“I’m in the middle of a game, Michael. What the fuck could possibly be so important that it’s vital that we talk right this instant?”

“I saw Justin at the diner.”

“And?”

“He’s cheating on you.”

“Mikey, have we or have we not discussed this before? Cheating cannot occur when there is no relationship.” He leaned against his pool cue, obviously bored with the conversation.

“Just hear me out, okay? So I was at the diner and Justin came in, but he didn’t notice me. He talked to Ma for a minute and then he made this phone call, telling someone he’d be home soon.”

“Could have been his mother,” Brian pointed out.

“Then why did he say, ‘Tell Finlay I’ll be home soon and that I love him?’ Who the fuck is Finlay?”

“How the hell should I know?” Brian raked a hand through his hair, then fixed his gaze on Michael. “Aside from this little scenario you’ve come up with, why, exactly, do you not like Justin?”

“I never said I didn’t like him.”

“You didn’t have to, Michael, I can tell. For fuck’s sake, so can he. Have you said anything to him?”

“Nothing that wasn’t true. I may have mentioned that you wouldn’t be his boyfriend, that if that was something he was hoping for he should just get over it.”

“You had no right telling him that.”

“Someone had to.”

“And what if I had changed my mind? What if I had suddenly decided that maybe a relationship wouldn’t be such a bad idea?”

“What?”

“You had no right speaking for me, Michael, because what if what you thought I wanted no longer paralleled what I actually _do_ want?” Brian set his pool cue on the table and crossed his arms over his chest. “So, back to the original question—why do you hate Justin?”

“I don’t _hate_ him. I just don’t like him.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know he’s a fucking teenager. I know he probably has this perfect suburban white-picket-fence life.”

“You don’t know that, Michael. You know as well as I do that a person can hide all sorts of shit that goes on at home. Fuck, I used to hide what my life was like. And so what if Justin’s a teenager? That doesn’t prevent us from having a good time.”

“Doing what, reliving your youth?”

“Fuck you. You know, I really have no reason to explain this to you.”

“I’m your best friend,” Michael insisted.

“Then try acting like it, and stop insinuating yourself into my business.”

“You _are_ my business.”

“I’m not talking about this with you, and I am not discussing my involvement with Justin with you. Just stay out of it.”

Brian turned and made his way to the bar. He ordered a shot of whiskey and downed it, Michael’s words running through his mind.

In all honesty, Brian found his friendship with Justin a little odd. He had never liked teenagers, not even when he had been one. Why now, at twenty-nine, was he spending so much time with one? Why did his day seem that much brighter as soon as he heard Justin’s voice? And why did he, every so often, think of he and Justin as a single entity, as thought they were in a relationship . . . in an undefined, unconventional kind of way?

 

There was a small table behind the bookstore where the employees would congregate during lunch and for smoke breaks and, although Justin didn’t usually go out there, today he felt the unmistakable urge for a cigarette. After a few minutes of puffing on his Marlboro, he ground out the butt and retrieved his cell phone from his pocket. He quickly dialed, then placed the phone to his ear. 

“Brian Kinney’s office, Cynthia speaking.”

“Hi, Cynthia, it’s Justin Taylor.”

“Justin. Hi. Is everything all right? Did your check clear?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s fine.”

“So what did you spend it on?”

“Oh, um, I traded in my old car and used some of the money to buy a new Honda. Seemed like a good investment.”

“Nice. So I’m assuming you want the boss.”

“If he’s not busy. I mean, it’s nothing all that important, so if he’s busy I could just call again later. I’m just on my lunch break so I thought . . .”

“Do you always ramble this much?” she asked with a slight laugh.

“No. Not usually.”

“Well, lucky for you, Brian is in his office. Give me a sec and I’ll transfer you.”

“Thanks.”

“Justin, hi.”

“Hey, Brian,” he replied, his smile evident in the tone of his voice. “How’s life as a genius ad man going?”

“Hm, pretty good. I can almost afford to retire, move to Spain, and have my own army of personal cabana boys.”

“It’s good to have dreams.”

“Yeah, it is. So to what do I owe the honor of hearing your voice in the middle of the day?”

“Well, it turns out that one of the guys at work has these concert tickets for this Friday night, and he can’t go, and he’s offered me first shot at the tickets. So I was thinking, if you’re not busy . . .”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Brian teased.

“Call it what you will.”

“Hm.” Brian was quiet for a moment, but his breathing was still audible. “So who’s playing?”

“Lou Reed.”

“You’re fucking kidding me! That’s been sold out for ages. How the fuck did you manage to snag the tickets?”

“Jamie, the guy I work with who has them, his wife works at a local radio station, so she got them, not realizing that it’s the same night as their daughter’s ballet recital.”

“Shit. Sucks to be him.”

“So, you never answered my question . . . wanna go?” Justin asked, as the back door opened and Ethan stepped outside.

“Oh yeah. Do you have any idea how much I love Lou Reed?”

“Hm, yeah, I kind of noticed that last week when I was looking through your CD collection.”

“When did you get a chance to do that? I recall keeping you fairly well-occupied that night.”

“It was the next morning,” Justin replied, drumming his fingers on the table and briefly glancing in Ethan’s direction. “I got bored waiting for you to finish messing with your hair.”

“Hey, it takes time to get the perfect just-rolled-out-of-bed hair.”

“Except, in reality, it looks nothing like your hair does when you first wake up.”

“Thank God,” Brian intoned with a chuckle.

“Okay, so Friday, how about I pick you up at work at five, then we hit the diner, then off to the show, which begins at eight?”

“Sounds good. And after the show?”

“Completely your call.”

“Okay, then. See you Friday, if not sooner.”

“Later.” Justin grinned and flipped his phone shut. He tapped his packet of cigarettes, then placed one between his lips and lit it.

“You know, cigarettes are really bad for you.”

Justin glanced up to see Ethan sliding onto the bench across the table from him. “Yeah, well, it’s one of my few vices, so I guess I’m not doing too bad.” He purposely blew out a stream of smoke so that the wind caught it and it sailed back in the other man’s direction. “Sorry.”

“No problem. So . . . hot date? That guy, Brian, whose friend came in all pissy the other day?”

“Yes, Brian, and no, it’s not a date. We’re just friends.”

“Oh. So, hey, I know you said the other day that you have some prior commitments, but maybe we could hang out sometime.”

“I already told you—I’m really busy and I don’t see that changing anytime in the foreseeable future,” Justin replied. Why couldn’t Ethan get it through his head that he just wasn’t interested?

“But you find time for Brian?” An ugly sneer found its way to Ethan’s lips.

“We’re friends.”

“Sounds like you’re more than that. What kind of friendship involves fucking?”

“When did my life become any of your fucking business, Ethan? I’m not interested in dating you, and I sure as hell don’t have any free time to just hang out.” He ground his cigarette into the top of the picnic table, stood, and walked back into the store.

 

On Friday Justin left work at three o’clock and picked Finlay up from daycare. When he stepped into the children’s play area, after having been carefully scrutinized by the daycare’s receptionist, he immediately spotted Finlay crawling toward a bright pink ball a few feet away.

“Justin. Hi.”

“Hi, Lori,” he replied, grinning at the young woman who worked at the center. “I’ve just come to pick up Finlay.” He gazed at the little boy again. “He really seems to like it here.”

“He’s been doing exceptionally well,” Lori remarked with a smile. “So what brings you by so early?”

“I managed to get tickets to the Lou Reed show tonight, so I asked a friend to go with me. We’re going out to dinner first.”

“Special friend?”

“Guess you could say that. Sort of.” He gazed back at his son. “Finlay!”

The little boy turned and spotted his father. He smiled, his smile identical to Justin’s, and laughed. Then he dropped the ball he had been holding and crawled quickly over to Justin.

“He’s grown so much in the couple of months he’s been coming here,” Lori commented as Justin scooped up his son.

“Yeah, it’s all been so fast.” He placed a loud kiss on Finlay’s cheek, causing a burst of laughter from the little boy. Finlay wrapped his little arms around Justin’s neck and sloppily kissed him in return.

 

While Finlay napped Justin took a quick shower. He had just finished brushing his teeth and styling his hair when the buzzer sounded. Knowing that it was Daphne he unlocked the downstairs door, then ran into his bedroom and hastily pulled on a pair of shorts. Returning to the living room, he opened the front door just as Daphne was stepping off the elevator.

“Hey, Daph.”

“You know, if you met Brian dressed like this it would save a lot of time and energy,” she commented, stepping into the apartment.

“Yeah, well, shrinkage wouldn’t help matters any—it is starting to get cold out, you know.”

“True. So, where’s my charge?”

“Napping in his playpen. He had an exciting day today, crawling all over the place at daycare. I can’t even imagine what he’ll be like once he starts walking. I’ll be chasing him everywhere.”

“That should be fun.” Her eyes raked over Justin’s bare chest. “So what are you wearing tonight?”

“Honestly, I haven’t even had time to figure that out. Give me a few minutes to see what I can throw together.”

After a few minutes he returned wearing a pair of navy-blue pinstripe pants and a shortsleeve royal blue fitted button-down shirt. He found Daphne sitting on the couch flipping through the channels on his small t.v.

“So what do you think?”

“Hm . . . fuckalicious.”

“What?” Justin asked, unable to hold back his laughter.

“He won’t be able to resist you in that. It’s sexy, but not slutty.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Then again, maybe you _should_ aim for slutty.”

“Um . . . no. If you’ll remember, I’m picking Brian up at his office. He has an image to convey. Last time I was there I wasn’t dressed up at all and I felt like a fucking teenager.”

“You _are_ a teenager.”

“Chronologically. Not mentally. There’s a huge difference.” He retrieved his boots and slipped them on, lacing them tightly. “Thanks again for doing this, Daph.”

“Not a problem.”

Justin walked to the playpen and looked fondly at his son. Leaning over, he lightly kissed the back of his son’s head. Then he turned back to Daphne. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“Well, for your sake, I hope you’re gone all night.”

“Yeah. I always feel guilty when I stay out all night, though. It just feels like I’ve been doing it a lot lately.”

“It’s only been a couple of times. Besides, every parent needs a night away from their kid every once in a while.”

“I know.” He sighed loudly. “It’s just . . . sometimes it feels like I’m abandoning him.”

“You’re _not_ abandoning him! Christ! You really need to get laid, you’re much more mellow afterward.”

“True.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Later, Daph.” Leather jacket in hand, Justin left his apartment.

 

When Justin approached the reception area in Brian’s building, Mary quickly gave him the once-over and, apparently didn’t recognize him.

“Yes, can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m here to see Brian Kinney. He’s expecting me.”

“Do you have an appointment?” Her fingers were poised above the keyboard, ready to type in his name.

“No, but he knew I would be stopping by.”

“All right. Just let me call his assistant. Your name, please?”

“Justin Taylor.”

“Just one moment, please,” she said, reaching for the telephone.

 

A few minutes later Justin found himself being led into Brian’s office suite by a nervous-looking intern who, apparently, had been recruited to answer the phone while Brian and Cynthia were tied up in a meeting with Liberty Air, which had run later than anticipated.

“So, are you going to intern here?” the mousy girl asked, settling back behind Cynthia’s desk, while Justin took a seat in a rich brown over-stuffed leather chair.

“Um, no.”

“Oh, I just thought . . .”

“I’m here to meet Brian, actually. We’re friends.”

The young girl’s eyes widened, then she glanced around for a moment before saying, “I didn’t realize he had any friends. He’s so . . . mean.”

“Of course he has friends. The way a person is at work is rarely how they are in daily life.” His eyes fell on a pile of foamcore boards occupying a corner of Cynthia’s desk. “Is that a new campaign?”

“This? Oh, um . . . I don’t know.”

“What’s it for?”

“Um . . . a new clothing store.” She set the boards back down. “I’m really only supposed to answer the phone.”

“Ah, okay. Oh, sorry, what’s your name?”

“Um . . . Elizabeth.”

“So, Elizabeth, what department are you interning for?”

“Oh, um, marketing. I’m a business major at Carnegie Mellon.” She brushed a piece of dark brown hair behind her ear and adjusted her glasses. “What about you?”

“I’m hoping to get into PIFA,” he replied. “Right now I’m working on my portfolio for the application.”

“I told you we had that fucker nailed,” Brian said, his voice drifting in from the hallway.

“Right as always, boss,” Cynthia said, as the two entered the suite. “Justin, hi.”

“Hi Cynthia.” His gaze shifted to Brian and he grinned. “I hope you weren’t personally nailing that fucker.”

“Ugh, fuck no!” Brian visibly shuddered, while Cynthia burst out laughing and Elizabeth looked scandalized. “No way, total breeder. You look great, by the way.”

“Thank you.” He gazed at Brian’s gray Versace suit. “You are planning to change, right?”

“Of course. Risk having cheap beer spilled on my favorite Versace? I have other clothes in my office. But while you’re here, I was hoping to get your expert opinion on this.”

“Hardly expert,” Justin replied with a chuckle as Brian handed him the stack of boards from Cynthia’s desk.

“Better than the majority of the fuckwits I’ve managed to not be able to find a good reason to fire. There’s something wrong with the concept. I’ve been looking at them all day and my brain is fried. Just give them a quick once-over while I change, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Okay. But you’ll owe me for this.”

“I already owe you. Remember Debbie’s? The raincheck?”

“Just get your scrawny ass in there and get changed while I look at these.”

“Thanks,” Brian replied, retreating to his office.

Justin returned to his seat and began flipping through the boards. Each was a different ad, with different copy, but Justin saw little connection between the concepts of the ads and the clothing the ads purported to encourage the sale of. He looked at them again, then looked up at Cynthia, who was studying him intently. Sometime during the few minutes Justin had spent looking at the boards, Elizabeth had left the office altogether.

“Cynthia? Could I have a pen and some paper?”

“Um, sure.” She handed him the materials, watching as he spread everything out on the coffee table and began hastily writing.

He chewed on his bottom lip as his hand flew across the page. A few moments later he set the pen down and glanced up to find Brian standing a few feet away. The taller man had changed into a pair of black pants and a skintight black tee-shirt that showed off his well-defined, but not overtly-muscular, chest. His hair, which had previously been neatly styled, was now mussed up, creating the ‘just-fucked’ look that suited him so perfectly. His hands were shoved into his back pockets and a smile played across his lips.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Brian replied, sitting down beside him. “So what’d you come up with?”

“A lot of these seem really bland, you know? Too generic.”

“Right.”

“So this is what I was thinking . . . copy that says something like, ‘Be Your Own Brand of Cool.’ That could go along the top. Then have the store’s logo in the bottom right-hand corner. Then, for the visual, have a variety of people, teens and college students mostly, different races, obviously, and dressed in different styles. Then have captions under each of the pictures like, oh . . . Punk Cool, Hip-Hop Cool, Yoga Girl Cool, Gay Boy Cool, Hippie Cool, Nerd Cool . . . just all the different ways a person can dress if they buy K&D clothes that will, theoretically, make them seem cool. And it emphasizes that they have the perfect clothing for everyone . . . it’s not like American Eagle or Old Navy, which cater to the All-American preppy look. K&D is the real All-American because it reflects everyone.”

“Write that down, too. ‘K&D is the real All-American,” Brian instructed. “That, or a variant of it, could work as the copy as well.” He looked at Justin with a smile and said, “How do you do that? Come up with the exact idea I’m looking for so quickly?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t have a background in advertising. There’s a lot less pressure to get it right when you don’t do it day in and day out,” he stated honestly.

“Thank you.” He slid his fingers into Justin’s hair and pulled him into a gentle kiss. “I’ll run it by Marty and see what he says. I should just add you to the regular payroll as a consultant, rather than just having you look at the boards once they’re already a complete mess.” He stood, then pulled Justin up. “Okay. Cynthia? Keep all this stuff together and put it in my office. See you on Monday.”

“You look incredible,” Justin murmured once they were in the elevator. “Black is definitely your color.”

“Hm. You clean up well, too. In fact,” Brian said, pulling Justin closer and wrapping his arms around him, “you almost look your age.” He leaned forward, capturing Justin’s lips in a gentle kiss.

“Lucky for you.”

“Yup. Lucky me.”

 

Justin had chosen the diner because he had feared that if he chose someplace more secluded, more intimate, their dining together could be viewed as a date rather than as friends just hanging out, and he didn’t want Brian to think that he thought of it as a date. Because he didn’t. Not really. Though he wouldn’t have minded if, in a perfect world, he and Brian had been able to date, to be more than friends with benefits.

But it wasn’t a perfect world. This was blatantly obvious when Justin realized that Michael and the gang were already occupying their regular booth.

“You want the empty one behind them?” Brian asked, his fingers kneading some of the tension from Justin’s neck.

“Yeah.”

“Baby, you look gorgeous!”

“Thanks, Emmett.” Justin slid into the booth, Brian settling across from him.

“Brian, we have plenty of room. Come and sit with us.”

“Michael, it’s obvious he’s here with Justin. Besides, he’s a big boy, he can sit wherever he wants,” Emmett pointed out. He turned his attention back to the two men sitting behind him. “So, what are your plans for tonight?”

“We’re going to see Lou Reed. He doing a show at a club across town,” Justin replied, smiling at the flamboyant and friendly Southern man.

“Oh! I love Lou Reed. That song—‘Waiting For My Man!’”

“Emmett? You _do_ realize that it’s about a drug dealer, right?” Brian pointed out.

“Well, I believe it’s a song that works on many levels.”

“Of course you do, Em.” Ted rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe you got tickets. We’ve only loved him since, what, tenth grade?” Michael pointed out. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Lou Reed.”

Brian took note of Justin’s eyes clouding over with both anger and annoyance. Reaching forward, he captured Justin’s hand and twined their fingers together.

Justin reached forward with his free hand and lightly traced Brian’s cowry shell bracelet. He took a deep breath, then turned toward Michael and said, “He should be back in Pittsburgh in a few months—maybe you and David could get tickets.”

“Brian, why are you taking _him_?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Justin muttered. He turned and looked Michael in the eye. “Do you have any idea how to stay the fuck out of other people’s business? The tickets were mine, I invited Brian, and it has absolutely nothing to do with you, so fuck off!” He turned back to Brian, taking note of the man’s stunned expression. “What?”

“Fuck, you’re hot when you’re assertive.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leaned across the table, capturing Justin’s lips in a heated kiss.

 

“I’m sorry you keep having to deal with Mikey,” Brian said as Justin navigated his car through the city streets.

“I’ve dealt with worse, believe me,” the younger man replied. “I’m just chalking it up to his irrational obsession with you.”

“I suppose I might have encouraged it a little.”

“How?”

“I don’t know . . . things I’ve said or done. Hinting that, way, way, _way_ in the future we might somehow end up together. Two old queens in Palm Springs.”

“But the thing is, even if you had done, and phrased, things that way . . . anyone else would have understood that you were trying to say that the desired relationship wasn’t going to happen at all. That it was all just wishful thinking.”

“Regardless, it doesn’t excuse the way he treats you.”

“Yeah, pretty territorial, isn’t he? Watch out, he may try and piss on your leg.”

 

The club was small, and much classier than either had expected—there were no random explosions of violence, no one spitting on the floor—in fact, it reminded Brian of a piano bar. They wove their way around the club’s occupants and found a secluded corner table that afforded a wonderful view of the stage and promptly ordered drinks from the waitress who had immediately descended upon them.

“So how are your paintings coming?” Brian asked quietly.

“Slowly. There are just so many distractions. But they’re getting there. I’ll have everything ready to go soon.”

“You know, I was serious when I mentioned wanting to hire you. I probably wouldn’t be able to swing it until you’re done with high school because Marty would have a fit.”

“I don’t want you pulling strings and getting me a job I’m not qualified for.”

“You _are_ qualified. You understand the products, what draws people to them, and what I want in an ad campaign. It’s almost frightening how you know what I want even before I do. So, it would be beneficial for us both. We’d both make a good amount of money, and it would look very impressive on your resume.”

“True. Can I think about it?”

“Of course. Take all the time you want. The offer will always stand.”

“Thanks, Brian.” He sipped his beer, then studied the older man for a moment. “So . . . how’s Gus doing?”

“Good. I mean, all he does is eat and sleep. And cry.”

“Babies are kind of boring at that age, but fascinating, too.”

“Spend a lot of time with kids?” Brian raised his eyebrow.

“Let’s just say I’ve changed a diaper or two,” he said quietly, beginning to peel the label off his beer. “So . . . what is one thing you’ve always wanted to do?”

“Hm. Go to Ireland, I guess. Spend awhile there, learn the language, that kind of thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. My grandmother was from Ireland and she believed in passing the culture and the language down. But my parents, my mother especially, felt it was all too pagan, and counterintuitive to Catholicism.” He drained his glass, then signaled for another. “I managed to learn a little before my grandmother died, but not nearly as much as I wanted.”

“That would be nice to be able to pass on to Gus.”

“Yeah.” Then the lights began to go down and a young woman stepped onstage to introduce Lou Reed.

 

By ten-thirty they were back in Justin’s car heading across town, Brian’s hand resting on the younger man’s thigh.

“So where to now?”

“Hm . . . I don’t know,” Brian replied. “It’s still sort of early. I would suggest Babylon but I don’t want to deal with Mikey again.”

“We could always go back to your place.” He glanced at Brian and grinned.

“Yeah, we could.”

“And, maybe, we could get some ice cream on the way.”

“As long as I don’t have to eat it.”

“I’ll get you to eat some.” 

“And how do you propose to do that?”

“I have my ways—use your imagination.”

 

Somehow Brian and Justin had managed to fall asleep the night before, never having had a chance to shower. Now they were basically stuck together—and vanilla-scented.

Brian ran his fingers through the blonde silk of Justin’s hair, then began to lightly massage his scalp until the younger man’s eyes fluttered open.

“We fell asleep before we got to wash off your little ice cream adventure.”

“Must’ve been tired. We _did_ burn a lot of calories, though.” Justin rolled away from the other man, grimacing at the sticky pull of his skin. “Okay, yeah, maybe we should have showered last night.”

“No time like the present.”

An hour later they finally made their way out of the bathroom, Justin wearing only a towel and Brian sans any form of clothing, only to find Lindsay sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper and eating a bowl of cereal.

“Christ!” Brian muttered, pulling on a pair of jeans, then descending to the kitchen, leaving Justin alone to get dressed. “Lindsay, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Gus wanted to see you.” She gestured to the baby sleeping in a portable crib. “Of course, he got tired waiting for you to finish your shower. Think you were in there long enough?”

“My showers are always long when I’m not taking them by myself.”

“Oh.” She appeared slightly surprised at this revelation. “Since when do you shower with the guys you fuck?”

“Hi, Lindsay,” Justin said quietly, stepping out of the bedroom, dressed in his clothes from the previous evening.

“Oh, Justin.” She gazed at Brian for a moment, then turned her attention back to Justin. “You spent the entire night here? Do your parents even know where you are?”

“What I do doesn’t concern them.”

“Of course it does. I know you may be too young to understand how parents feel about their children, but they always love them and they’re bound to worry when their child spends the entire night away from home.”

“All parent/child relationships are different, Lindsay, and none are perfect. And if you expect Gus to live up to what you want him to be, rather than what _he_ wants to be, then you’re going to have a very rocky relationship.” He turned to Brian. “I should probably be going now.”

“I had a great time last night. Thank you,” Brian said quietly.

“Thank you for the ice cream,” Justin grinned, then pulled the other man down for a long, passionate kiss. “I’ll call you later.”

“Later,” the older man echoed, watching Justin as he made his way out of the loft. He waited until the door clanged shut before turning his attention back to Lindsay. “What the fuck was that?”

“Excuse me?”

“There was absolutely no reason for you to treat him like that.”

“You’re hardly one to be judgmental, Brian. You’ve been using him since the day you met.” She dropped her spoon into her cereal bowl, then stood and crossed her arms over her chest. “In fact, I think you get off on having a teenage boy follow you around like some kind of puppy dog, thinking of you as God.”

“You are so full of shit! He doesn’t follow me around and, believe me, he doesn’t think of me as God. That’s a more accurate description for Mikey, don’t you think?”

“I just don’t understand what you see in him.”

“It’s not up to you to understand it. _You_ are not involved in anything that goes on between Justin and myself. I think it would be best if you’d remember that. And,” he added, “I’ll expect that the next time you use the key I gave you to get into the loft in case of an emergency, will be an actual emergency. Understand? Because if we ever have a repeat of this, I’m changing the fucking lock.”


	6. Always

Justin sat cross-legged on his couch, his hand carefully guiding the pencil across the page. He was confident that he would be accepted into the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Art, but he was still trying to figure out how he was going to attend school full-time and work—he refused to leave Finlay with sitters day and night. It was bad enough that he left him as much as he did. 

He glanced up, taking note of his son as the boy played with the toys in his playpen. With a smile, Justin returned to his sketch.

“Da!”

Justin’s hand came to a halt as he looked up once again. Finlay was on his hands and knees inside the playpen, peering out at him through the enclosure’s mesh netting. Justin slowly set his materials down and walked over to his son. He peered at the little boy, then softly said his name.

“Da!” the little boy responded, before beginning to laugh, then reaching for his father.

“You did it, baby. You did it!”

“Da.”

“I love you, Finlay,” he whispered against the child’s soft blonde head.

“Love Da!”

Justin tried to focus on the joy that came with hearing his son’s first words, but a nagging sadness began pushing its way to the forefront of his mind. Of course he was thrilled that this moment had come, that at ten months Finlay had uttered his first two real words—but he wanted to tell someone. One someone—Brian. He felt tears begin to gather in his eyes, but quickly blinked them away and carried his son over to the couch. He reached for his cell phone and quickly dialed a number.

“Hi, Daph, it’s me.”

“Da!”

“Justin? Oh my God, was that Finlay?”

“Yeah. His first word.” He balanced the phone on his shoulder, then quickly wiped at the solitary tear that had managed to escape his lower left lid. “Actually, he said two words tonight. I don’t know, maybe he’s been practicing in the middle of the night while I’m asleep or something.”

“You happy about it?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Then why don’t you sound like it?” she asked quietly. After a few moments passed without him answering the question, she continued. “Do you want me to come over for a little while?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, not trusting himself to speak louder. “Use your key.” 

 

Justin was sitting on the couch, his knees drawn up to his chest, and his arms wrapped around his legs, when Daphne entered his apartment. She removed her coat and tossed it onto an empty chair, then took a seat beside him.

“I wanted to call Brian,” the blonde man began quietly, not looking at his friend as he spoke. “As soon as Finlay said ‘Da’ I wanted to call Brian and tell him. He was the first person I thought of. He was the one I wanted to share it with.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, then groaned. “I’ve always been able to handle this by myself. Like when Finlay learned to crawl. That was a huge deal, and I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it, but that was okay. It’s just not like that anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because I love Finlay. And . . . I think I love Brian.”

“And you still haven’t told him about Finlay.”

“He won’t want anything to do with me, Daph. He won’t want to be with a teenager who has a child. I mean, he loves Gus, I know he does, it’s obvious, but for some reason he doesn’t think he can be a full-time father. I don’t know, it probably has something to do with his own father. I guess he was pretty abusive, though Brian hasn’t talked about it much.”

“You’re not giving him a chance, Justin,” Daphne insisted. “You don’t know what he wants. And you won’t know until you give him the chance to make that decision on his own.”

“No, I _do_ know what he wants. He’s made it clear time and again. And I can’t . . . I can’t let him reject Finlay. He’s already lost his mother, both sets of grandparents . . . I can’t let him lose someone else.”

“So you’re going to make Brian’s decision for him?”

“What else can I do? He doesn’t want to raise a child, and anyone who ends up with me will have to accept his role as Finlay’s other father. Brian can’t do that.”

“I think maybe you’re underestimating him.”

“Daph, you’ve never even met him.”

“True. But I listen to you talk about him enough. And I mentioned his name at work once and heard about his reputation. Sleeps with anyone with a dick, but never twice. Kicks them out of his apartment as soon as they’re done. And it’s obvious that he’s not that way when it comes to you. So maybe he’s ready to make some changes in his life. Maybe, just maybe, you’ve made him want to make these changes.”

“No, see, that’s the thing—Brian doesn’t change for anyone. He refuses to change who he is to suit others. And I admire that, I really do. And I don’t want to try and force him to change. I don’t want him to become someone he’s not just because he might think that’s what I want.” But even as he said the words, he couldn’t help but wonder if they were accurate . . . maybe Brian wanted to change and he was refusing to see it. Still, that possibility was very unlikely.

“Christ, Justin, you just said that he wouldn’t change for anyone other than himself. So maybe he wants to change . . . for himself. Just because you helped him see that he wants to change doesn’t mean you’re trying to change him.”

“I just think it would be best for everyone if I ended things now, before it gets any more difficult.”

“You are such a fucking coward! This is so unlike you! I know we haven’t known each other long, but you’ve never seemed the type to let anyone stop you from getting what you want. You didn’t like the influence your parents and in-laws had on Finlay, so you just packed up and moved. Got him out of that situation. That took balls, Justin. You didn’t let anyone tell you you couldn’t do it, that you couldn’t make a life for yourself in another city, that you couldn’t raise your son by yourself. So why are you stopping yourself from being with Brian?”

“Being fuck buddies isn’t the same thing as ‘being with Brian.’”

“Since when are you just fuck buddies? I thought you were friends with benefits? ‘Friends’ being the key term.”

“We _are_ friends. And maybe when I tell him about Finlay he’ll still want to be friends. But I’ll still be in love with him, mooning over him. Fuck, I’ll turn into another version of Mikey. It’ll be pathetic. And I refuse to do that. I refuse to let Finlay see me lusting after someone I can’t have. What kind of example is that for him?”

“What kind of example is it if you give up on going after what you really want?” Daphne pointed out.

“I’ll be teaching him about self-preservation. Cutting your losses when you have to. That’s something he’s going to need to learn, because this world sure as hell isn’t going to be giving him any breaks, if his life so far is any indication.” Standing, Justin made his way over to Finlay’s playpen and peered at his sleeping son.

 

After Daphne left, Justin had gone to bed early. He woke up a couple hours later to the persistent ringing of his cell phone. He glanced at the clock. 9:46. The display showed that it was Brian.

“Hey.”

“Hi. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just went to bed early. I’ve had a headache all day.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, we can talk later.”

“That’s okay, Brian. I probably shouldn’t be sleeping now, anyway. Homework to do, and all that. Though I honestly don’t feel up to doing it.” Standing, he made his way into his son’s room. The little boy was sitting up in his crib, playing with one of his stuffed toys.

“Brian?”

“Hm?”

“Um, nothing, nevermind.” He looked at his son again, and felt the tears running down his cheeks. “Maybe . . . maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

“What? Why?”

“Because . . . Christ, Brian. Michael hates me.”

“What the fuck does Michael have to do with anything? He’s not there when we’re together.”

“Jesus, Brian!”

“What? Explain this to me. And don’t bullshit me, all right?”

“I just . . . I think . . . I’ve fallen in love with you,” he whispered. “And I know that’s not what you want. We agreed to keep this casual, and it just hasn’t turned out that way for me. And when our goals are so vastly different . . . I just . . . I don’t know what to do about any of this, Brian. There’s still a lot we don’t know about each other. A lot we’re not willing, or able, to let the other know.”

“Justin, I don’t want you to _not_ be a part of my life.”

“But just casually.”

“I don’t know. All I know is . . . I like having you around. I like talking to you. I like fucking you. I like sitting with you and not doing anything at all.”

“But you really don’t know me, Brian. There’s so much of my life that you don’t know.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t. I have to go, Brian. I’m sorry.” He turned the phone off and sank into the rocker in Finlay’s room. He leaned forward until his head was nearly on his knees, trying to stifle the sobs that wracked his body.

 

“Jesus, Brian, you look like shit!” Michael exclaimed as Brian slid into the booth his friend occupied at the diner.

“Thank you so much for that, Mikey.”

“What’d you do, fuck every guy you could find, cause you don’t look like you slept at all last night.”

“Is that really all you think of me?” he asked quietly.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you really think that fucking all these different guys really makes me happy?”

“It’s always seemed to.”

“There’s a lot in life that is an illusion, Mikey.” He picked up the coffee that Deb had placed in front of him and sipped the hot liquid.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Justin.”

“What’d that little fucker do?”

“Why do you hate him?” Brian leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I don’t hate him. I just . . . I guess I don’t understand why you want anything to do with him. He’s a kid. He doesn’t know anything about real life. What could the two of you possibly have in common?”

“Whereas you and I have half of our lives in common. Therefore, we should be together.”

“Well . . .”

“Mikey, I’ve told you time and again that we’re meant to be friends, nothing more.”

“I know, but still . . .”

“Well, you don’t have to worry, Justin broke up with me last night.”

“How the fuck could the two of you break up if you were just casual fuck buddies? I mean, I know you’ve fucked him a lot more than you’ve fucked other guys, but . . .”

“It was starting to get more serious, okay? Let’s just leave it at that.”

“Are you sure he’s not cheating on you?”

“He could be fucking half of Pittsburgh, and it wouldn’t constitute cheating, since we weren’t technically in an actual relationship, Mikey.”

“What the fuck’s the matter with _you_?” Deb asked, stopping at the table and taking note of the circles under Brian’s eyes.

“Brian got dumped.”

“Shut the fuck up, Michael.”

“What?” Deb pushed Michael further into the booth and sat down across from Brian. “What the fuck do you mean, you got dumped?”

Brian sighed loudly, then looked at the woman who was practically a mother to him. He stared into his coffee for a moment. “It doesn’t matter . . .”

“Of course it matters. Do you love this guy? And if so, why have you never mentioned him? It’s not Justin, is it? Because I know you’ve been fucking him, but he’s too young to be tied down. Too young for any kind of commitment. And too young to put up with your bullshit day in and day out.”

“And that’s your business because . . .?” 

“You’re better off without that little fucker,” Michael muttered.

Brian remained silent as he stared into the dark recesses of his coffee cup. Somehow, he just didn’t think he was better off without Justin. 

 

Justin was on his way into the school where his night classes were held, when his cell phone rang. He didn’t bother glancing at the display. Pressing the phone against his ear, he quietly said, “What?”

“Justin, sweetie, glad I was able to get ahold of you.”

“What do you want, Mom?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Well, I’m kind of busy right now. And besides that, I’m not in the mood,” he replied, stopping and leaning against a row of lockers outside the classroom.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Besides, what makes you think I’d tell you about my problems? You’d just use them against me.”

“Justin, that’s a bit unfair.”

“No it’s not. I have to go, I’m going to be late.”

“Wait. I just want to know if Finlay’s all right.”

“Of course he is. Why, were you expecting otherwise?”

“Of course not.” She paused a moment. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider bringing Finlay back to Chicago? Your father and I would love to take care of him.”

“It will be a cold day in Hell when I voluntarily turn my son over to you.” He snapped the phone shut, then slipped it back into his pocket. Then, taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped into his classroom.

 

Justin went through the rest of the week in a virtual daze, similar to the state he was in shortly after Shannon’s death. He went to work, picked up his son from daycare, cooked, cleaned, studied, and slept. At one time he had enjoyed going to work, but now it had become nearly intolerable, to the point where he was looking for another job. Ethan kept asking him out, and he kept declining, but he could tell the man was getting angrier and angrier every time he did. He wanted to find another job before the man became completely unhinged. 

One day he was outside arranging books on a sale table just outside the door, when he saw Michael approaching him. The man’s lips were set in a thin line, his hands balled into fists at his side.

“What do you want, Michael?”

“I want to know what the fuck you think you’re doing messing with Brian.”

“I haven’t been messing with Brian. Things just fizzled out, okay?”

“I knew the two of you were bad for each other right from the start.”

“Good for you, Michael! Now do you mind, I’m at work.”

“Stay away from him!”

“Somehow I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” Turning, Justin stormed back into the store, never noticing that Ethan’s eyes followed his every movement.

 

Justin wasn’t sure how he had wound up completely drunk and standing in front of the door to Brian’s loft on his eighteenth birthday a month later, yet that’s where he was. He leaned heavily against the door and knocked, surprised when it was actually opened.

“Hey, Brian.” He grinned drunkenly.

“Jesus, Justin, what the fuck have you done to yourself?” He ushered the younger man into his apartment and sat him on the couch, then went to fetch him a bottle of water.

“I miss you,” Justin said.

“I miss you, too, baby.” Brian leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “But we are both so fucked up it’s not even funny.”

“I know.”

“I think we have to be honest about what we want out of whatever kind of relationship we decide to have.” Brian brushed a stray lock of hair from Justin’s forehead.

“I want marriage. And a real family. Cause I don’t really have that anymore.”

“I don’t know if I’m the marrying type, Justin. You’ve heard about my reputation.”

“Doesn’t mean you always have to be that way. Besides, I know you’re tired of it, even if you won’t admit it. I know you want me. Just me. And I want you. Have since the moment I saw you. But there are so many other factors. Other people to consider.” Justin curled up against Brian’s side. “Mm. I’m really tired.”

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“Need to go home.”

“You can’t go home like this. I’m sure your parents don’t want to see you like this.”

“Don’t wanna see me anyway. Big disappointment,” he muttered as Brian helped him out of his clothes. “Dad hates me. Mom’s embarrassed. Won’t admit it, but she is.”

“Just get some sleep, baby.”

“Brian?”

“Hm?”

“How much would you hate me if I kept something really big from you?”

“I don’t think I could ever hate you. I might be angry, but I could never hate you.”

“That’s good . . . guardian . . . something happens.”

“Whatever, baby. Just get some sleep. We can talk again when you’re lucid.”

“ ‘Kay.”

 

Justin awoke around five a.m. to discover he was in Brian’s bed. He let his memories of the previous evening drift back into his mind. Daphne. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, climbing quietly from the bed and grabbing his jeans. He pulled his cell phone out and quickly listened to his messages. Daphne had called him four times, his mother twice. Daphne had planned to stay with Finlay only until twelve, but when Justin hadn’t come home, Daphne had realized that he had probably gone to Brian’s, and had decided to spend the night, knowing that there was no one else to care for the little boy. He quickly dialed his home number, knowing that the ring would be loud enough to wake Daphne if she had fallen asleep.

“ ‘llo?”

“Hey Daph.”

“Where the fuck have you been, I’ve been trying to reach you all night!”

“Got drunk, wound up at Brian’s. Just woke up. I’m coming home in a little bit, okay? Just go back to sleep, I’ll make sure I get you up in time for you to get home and get ready for school, okay?”

“Okay. See you soon.”

Justin snapped the phone shut and crawled back onto the bed. “Brian?” When he got no response he began trailing kisses down the other man’s chest. That was always guaranteed to wake him. 

“Jus’n?”

“Hey. Don’t get up, it’s still really early. I just wanted to let you know that I have to go, okay? I have to get home. I’m gonna borrow one of your tee shirts, though, okay? Mine got all ripped somehow.”

“Kay. See you later?”

“Definitely.” He looked at the older man for a moment, then whispered, “Love you.”

“Hm, love you, too.” Then Brian rolled over and buried his head in his pillow. Justin smiled and made his way to Brian’s dresser, pulling out a white tee shirt similar to the one he had worn home just after they had met. 

Once dressed, he carefully slid open the heavy metal door and made his way out of the building. He grinned as he stepped outside. It had finally begun to snow. He couldn’t wait to see Finlay’s reaction to it all, now that he was old enough to play in it a few minutes at a time. He was sure the boy would love the snow as much as he did.

With that thought in mind, he began to make his way down the street, never noticing the figure exiting the white SUV in front of Brian’s building. Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him and, turning, he saw the baseball bat as it descended toward his head.


	7. Always

Brian had been sitting in the waiting room for what had seemed like hours. Justin’s blood had long ago dried onto his own skin, but he didn’t want to wash it off, couldn’t do it even if he wanted to. Michael sat beside him, obviously worried, because Brian hadn’t said a word and also because the taller man hadn’t turned to him for comfort. He just sat there, stock still, while silent tears traced paths through some of the dried blood.

“Mr. Kinney?” Brian looked up to find a nurse standing in front of him, Justin’s cell phone in her hand. “Here’s his phone, in case you’d like to call any of his other friends.” Brian nodded and took the phone, stared at it for a minute before flipping it open and looking through the short list of numbers Justin had stored in the phonebook. Daphne’s name immediately jumped out at him, and he pushed the connect button.

“Justin? Where the fuck are you, you were supposed to be here hours ago!” an angry female voice exclaimed as soon as the phone was answered.

“Daphne?”

“Huh? Who’s this?”

“Um, Brian.”

“Oh my God, did something happen?”

“Yeah.”

“How bad?”

“The doctors won’t say. I’m sure it’s partly because I’m not family. But . . . I think it’s pretty bad.”

“Which hospital?”

“Allegheny General.”

“Brian?”

“Hm?”

“Has Justin told you much else about his life?”

“No, not yet. We were going to talk about it some more.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a little while.”

“Thanks.” He snapped the phone shut and slid it into his pocket. “Daphne’s coming.”

“Who’s Daphne?”

“One of Justin’s friends. Probably his only real friend. He keeps to himself a lot.” He ran a hand through his hair, then slouched down in the hard plastic chair.

 

“Brian?”

The older man looked up, and found himself face to face with a young African-American girl with curly slightly red hair. She had a sleeping baby in a car seat in one hand and a diaper bag and purse slung over her shoulder.

“Yeah.” He stood to greet her, noticing the way her eyes traveled widely over the blood that stained his skin and clothing.

“I’m Daphne Chanders.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I wish the circumstances were better.”

“Me, too. Especially since there’s so much Justin hasn’t really told anyone.” She glanced at Michael for a moment and, for once, he got the hint.

“I think I’m going to go down to the cafeteria for a little while. You want anything, Brian?”

“No.” He watched as his friend left, then motioned for Daphne to sit down. His eyes skimmed over the baby, but it was mostly covered by a small hat and blanket, so he didn’t really pay it much attention.

“Justin left something for you, he wanted me to give it to you in case something like this happened. He always seems to think ahead, and I think given the situation that’s probably a good thing.” She reached into the diaper bag and pulled out a large envelope. Brian noticed Justin’s neat handwriting immediately. He carefully opened it and began skimming the papers, his eyes clouding with confusion.

“Um . . . I don’t understand.” He looked at her for a moment, then down at the car seat.

“Justin has given you guardianship of Finlay. It’s temporary, but if Justin were to not recover, the guardianship becomes permanent.” She watched as his eyes flitted back to the car seat. She leaned over and pulled off the blanket and small hat. Saw the recognition dawn as he took in the platinum hair and pale skin.

“Fuck.” Brian rubbed his hands over his face. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“He was afraid to. He thought you might not want anything to do with him. It was fine while the two of you were keeping things casual, and he didn’t want to risk Finlay getting hurt if he were to become attached to you. Then when things got more serious . . . he just didn’t know how to tell you without running you off. I think he’d come to the conclusion in the last couple of days that he had to tell you, regardless of what happened. He was tired of hiding. He’s really proud of Finlay, of everything they’ve been able to go through and come out of.” She glanced down at the boy again, noticing that his eyes were beginning to open. She was about to pick him up when she noticed Brian moving toward him.

“Hey.” He picked up the little boy and settled him against his chest. “You look so much like your daddy.” He kissed his forehead and began rubbing circles on his back. Then he turned to Daphne again. “How did he end up with a baby?”

“It’s not really my story to tell. He’ll tell you when he comes out of this.”

“Then why did he leave him with me?”

“He doesn’t trust anyone other than me and you. And he knows I can’t do it, regardless of how much I love Finlay. I just don’t have any way of supporting him. He’s also made it very clear, if you read the fine print in the documents, that he doesn’t want either of his parents left alone with Finlay. His mother’s been trying to convince him to send Finlay to live with her in Chicago. She doesn’t think he knows how to raise him. But he’s a really good father, Brian. Everything he does is for Finlay.”

“Okay. Um . . . have you called his parents?”

“Yes, his mother’s getting the earliest flight in that she can find. Promise you’ll take care of both of them?”

“Promise.”

“I believe you.” She leaned forward and lightly kissed his unblemished cheek. Then she kissed Finlay as well. “I think he made the right decision, you know. It’s not something he would decide lightly.” She smiled at the two of them. “I have to go, my parents are probably really worried, I was supposed to be home last night. Could you, um . . . call me . . . if anything happens? I’ll stop by again when I get a chance.”

“Sure.”

“And, um . . . I’d like to see Finlay from time to time, if that’s all right. Justin and I actually met when I answered his ad for a babysitter, so Finlay and I have become quite attached.”

“I think that would be a good idea. Things are going to be confusing enough for him for a while. What about Finlay’s mother?”

“She’s dead. Car accident when she was eight months pregnant.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” She gave Finlay one last kiss before standing. “I should go. I’ll call soon.” 

Brian watched as she turned and walked down the hall and out the hospital doors, never looking back. He turned his attention to the child in his arms. “So you’re Finlay, huh?” The baby giggled at him and Brian found himself smiling. “No wonder your daddy has a soft spot for the Irish.”

“Da!” the boy squealed.

“That’s right, Justin’s your daddy, and he loves you very much,” Brian whispered.

“Brian?” Looking up, he saw Michael, Lindsay, and Mel standing a few yards away, confusion written all over their faces. 

“Why do you have a baby?”

“Um, cause he’s sorta mine for a while.” He watched as the confusion turned to shock, then said, “Mel? Could you look these over for me?” He handed her the papers, before rummaging through the diaper bag with his free hand and retrieving a bottle of juice. He propped the boy up so that he was sitting, and handed him the bottle. Finlay immediately grasped it in his chubby hands and began sucking on it happily.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Mel exclaimed, staring at Brian over the top of the papers.

“So everything’s in order?”

“Yeah, but how . . .”

“I had no idea until fifteen minutes ago, Mel, okay?”

“Are you going to do it?”

“Of course. How could I not?”

“Brian?” Michael sounded as though he were about to cry, either that or begin screaming hysterically, neither of which Brian wanted to deal with at the moment.

“Brian, there’s a letter attached to the back of it. Handwritten.” Mel stared at him a moment, then handed Brian the letter. He opened it with his free hand and began reading.

 

Dear Brian,

If you’re reading this, then I guess something has happened to me. I know that, regardless of what happens to me, you’ll take care of Finlay. I probably should have told you about him from the very beginning, but when we met I wasn’t looking for someone to fall in love with. That part just kind of happened. And then I just didn’t know how to tell you about my son. How do you tell someone you’re in love with that you’ve been keeping such a huge part of your life from them? It’s the utmost level of dishonesty, and for that I’m really sorry. Just know that I never meant to deceive you.

I guess I should fill you in on some of the backstory, if I haven’t already by the time you get this letter. Finlay was conceived one night when I was sixteen, and had gone to a party. I’d gotten a little drunk, and even though I knew I was gay I just figured, why not try sleeping with a girl and seeing what it’s like? I’m sure that’s something a lot of gay guys do. A short time later the girl, her name was Shannon, came to me and said she was pregnant. Her family was from Ireland, and were very strict Catholics, so they gave us a choice—get married or give our child up for adoption. So we got married and lived with her parents. I’d told her before we got married that I was gay, and she didn’t mind. We just figured we’d stay married for a while, finish school, go to college, and get amicably divorced once we could support ourselves and our child.

Things didn’t work out that way, though. One day Shannon’s brakes failed and she was involved in a car accident. She didn’t survive, but the doctors were able to save Finlay. Fortunately, he was only a month early. So my wife died the day my son was born. After I buried my wife, and took my son home, I had no idea what to do. I thought about suing the company that built the brakes, but I needed to think about our future, and you know class-action lawsuits take forever, and hardly ever turn out as you want them to. So I took the settlement. Her parents were furious with me and told me to leave, that they didn’t want to see me ever again and, by extension, Finlay. So I packed my car, and we left Chicago. I drove until I ended up in Pittsburgh. I have an apartment a short distance from Liberty. I’ll be the first to admit that it’s not a great apartment, but it’s become a real home for Finlay and me. 

My mother wants me to move back to Chicago. She wants to raise Finlay as her own, really. She thinks I’m a terrible father, even though she’s never really seen me with my son. And, honestly, I think that too much exposure to her, and especially to my father and Finlay’s maternal grandparents, will stifle his development. I don’t want him to grow up questioning who he is. I want him to have the freedom, the support system, and the love to try different things, to succeed at some and fail at others, and to become the person he is meant to be, the person he wants to be. I want him to have everything. That’s a sentiment I’m sure you understand. I know you want that for Gus, as well. 

That is why I’ve given you guardianship of Finlay. I know you’ll raise him as I would. As I _will_ , provided everything turns out well in the end. Daphne can help you out, if you need it. Finlay has a regular daycare that he goes to during the day; he’s beginning to socialize, as much as any child can at his age, so I hope you’ll continue to take him there. Daphne has an extra key to my apartment, she knows it’s yours if you need it—all you have to do is ask her.

I love you, Brian. Always remember that, no matter what.

 

Love,  
Justin

 

“Da!” Finlay shouted, raising his half-empty bottle of juice and waving it in Brian’s face.

“Finished? Yeah?” He took the bottle from Finlay’s hand, capped it, and tucked it back into the diaper bag, doing his best to ignore the curious looks of his friends.

“Brian? What’s going on? What was in that letter?” Michael asked.

“It’s personal.” Brian placed said letter in the inside pocket of his jacket. He returned his attention to Mel, who had continued to go through the paperwork. “Mel, are you sure this is solid? That no one can fight me on this?”

“Not a chance in hell, Brian.” She grinned at him. 

“Great. Um, Justin’s mother’s supposed to be here in a while, I guess, she’s on a flight from Chicago. I’m sure she’ll be expecting custody. Think you could be here to point out the fine print to her?"

“Of course.” She smiled down at the little boy who had curled up against Brian’s chest, his eyelids drooping as he sucked on his thumb. His skin was pale, but his cheeks held a healthy pink glow that made him appear almost cherubic.

Brian leaned forward and placed a kiss on the sleepy boy’s pale forehead. Then he reached for Justin’s phone and called Daphne again.

“Daphne, it’s Brian. Still no word. I was just wondering about a couple of things.”

“Sure, Brian.”

“Is he out to his parents?”

“I don’t think so. He was afraid of telling them, he thought they might use it against him in an attempt to get custody of Finlay. He especially felt that way about his father and Finlay’s maternal grandparents.”

“And he’d never want that. Um . . . what daycare does he usually go to?”

“Happy Baby over on Hudson.”

“Okay. And, um . . . I was thinking it would probably be best to keep everything as comfortable and familiar as possible, so could I get that key to his apartment soon?”

“Sure, Brian.”

“How about we meet at the Liberty Diner, around six?”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

Brian snapped the phone shut and slipped it into his pocket beside the letter, then looked down at Finlay again. He couldn’t get over how much the boy resembled Justin. He couldn’t get over the fact that Justin had a child at all. And he found himself wondering, had he found himself in the same situation, if he would have given up everything he’d had, everything that was familiar, his home, everything, to devote himself to his child. As fucked-up as the situation was, he couldn’t really fault Justin for not telling him about Finlay. He’d told the other man, on several occasions, that as glad as he was to be Gus’s father, he didn’t know if he could handle being a full-time father. So why wouldn’t Justin assume that that wouldn’t change, that he wouldn’t be able to handle being a full-time father to Justin’s son? Except now he had to be, and he didn’t really resent it at all, even though he knew that, given his previous declarations, he probably should. Justin was right, he would do as he wanted.

“Jesus Christ, Brian, just tell us what the fuck is going on!”

Brian turned to Michael and glared at him. “Keep your fucking voice down, you’ll wake him.” He eyed everyone else. “Justin has named me his son’s guardian, all right? So it looks like Finlay and I will be spending some time getting to know each other.”

“What the fuck? He has a fucking kid and he didn’t tell you? Cause if he’d told you, you would have mentioned it to me.”

“Michael, I don’t tell you everything, you know. But in this case, you’re right—he didn’t tell me.”

“And you’re just going to do as he asks, regardless of the fact that he’s been lying to you since the day you met?”

“You don’t understand the entire situation, Michael, all right? And I’m not about to divulge the personal details of Justin’s life before he met any of us. If he wants any of you to know, he’ll tell you when he gets out of here.” A hint of blue in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Turning, he saw a doctor clad in blue scrubs making his way toward the small group.

“Mr. Kinney?”

“Yeah?” Brian stood, careful not to jostle Finlay out of his slumber.

“Are you a relative of Mr. Taylor’s?”

“Um, no, but he’s named me as his son’s guardian, so I think that entitles me to know what’s going on.” He gently rubbed the boy’s back.

“Of course. Come with me, we’ll discuss his condition in my office.” 

Brian nodded, asked Mel to keep an eye on Finlay’s things, then followed the doctor down the hall.

 

Half an hour later Brian returned to the waiting room, somewhat dazed, and sat down again. Michael and Lindsay were nowhere to be found, but Mel had remained where she was. Brian couldn’t help but think of the irony of the situation—unlikely allies, and all that.

“Brian?” Her voice was uncharacteristically soft where he was concerned. “What did the doctor say?”

“Justin made it through the surgery. It’s going to be touch and go for a while. They’re not sure . . . there could be brain damage, they’re not sure how bad. He lost a lot of blood, the doctor says it helped a little that he was outside when it happened, the cold air helped constrict the blood vessels so he didn’t lose as much blood as he would have otherwise. He’s in a coma, though. He’s being moved to ICU.” His arms tightened slightly around the sleeping baby.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I want to be here with him. But I need to keep Finlay’s life as routine as possible. That’s probably best, right?” He looked over at her, uncharacteristic uncertainty clouding his features.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. For being here. I mean, I know you don’t like me much.”

“We’re just too similar, I think. And if you ever tell anyone I said that, I’ll chop off your dick. But I know you’ll do the right thing for everyone—you almost always do.” She peered at the little boy for a moment. “He looks a lot like Justin, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. They have the same look when they’re sleeping,” he said quietly. “Christ, I’m turning into one of those hetero-type fags I always swore I’d never be.”

“Still, it’s for a worthy cause. So suck it up, Kinney.” 

“Mr. Kinney?” 

“Yes?” he replied, looking up at the nurse now standing before them.

“Mr. Taylor has been moved to his room now, if you’d like to spend a few minutes with him.”

“I suppose it would be too much to ask that I be permitted to take his son in with me?”

“While children aren’t normally permitted in ICU, Dr. Rashid feels that it would be all right, as long as it’s not for too long.”

Brian nodded and stood as Mel began gathering the diaper bag and car seat. They followed the nurse to the elevator and up three levels. Then she led them down the hall, to a room with a window through which they could see Justin, hooked up to all sorts of machines, laying lifeless on a small regulation hospital bed.

“Ten minutes at a time,” the nurse said quietly. “And you might try talking to him, a lot of the time it can help.”

“Thanks,” he replied, as Finlay began to stir. “Hey, baby boy, you’re awake, huh?” He noticed the child’s confusion at waking up in arms that did not belong to his father. “You’re okay, you’re okay, I promise.” He kissed the top of Finlay’s head, his soft hair tickling Brian’s nose. “Come on, we’ll go see Daddy, okay?” He pushed open the door and stepped into the small room. He made his way over to the bed Justin occupied and gently set Finlay on the edge of it.

“Hey, baby.” Keeping one hand on Finlay, Brian gently stroked Justin’s cheek, then leaned over and placed a light kiss on his lips. “You’re looking much better than the last time I saw you. You’re just full of surprises today, aren’t you?” He smiled at Finlay. “I got your gift, thank you. Wasn’t really expecting it, but it’s welcome nonetheless.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Anyway, Dr. Rashid let me bring Finlay in with me for a few minutes, he thought you might like that. I’m just afraid that if he gets too close to you he’ll start pulling at the tubes they’ve got in you.” He picked up the small boy and, sitting down on the edge of the bed, placed Finlay on his lap. Then he took Justin’s hand and lightly placed it on Finlay’s leg. The boy’s small hand began gently tugging on his father’s fingers. “There you go, baby. See, Finlay’s doing fine.”

“Da!”

“That’s right, that’s Daddy. I know he’s a little quiet right now, but he’ll be back to his usual excitable self in no time.” He looked back at Justin. “I have to go now, I really don’t want to, but the nurse said only ten minutes.” He sighed loudly. “I’ll do everything you’ve asked, okay? Finlay will be safe and sound when you wake up. I’ve talked to Mel, she said the documents you had drawn up are airtight, so you don’t have to worry about anything.” He gently lifted Finlay into his arms and stood. Then he leaned over and kissed Justin again. “I’ll be back in a little while, okay? I don’t want to leave, but there are some things I have to take care of.” He stepped out into the hall, then leaned heavily against the wall.

“Are you all right?”

He looked over at Mel. “No. But I will be.” He patted Finlay for a moment, then said, “I think someone needs to be changed.” Brian glanced at the clock on the wall as he made his way toward the bathroom to change Finlay. It was nearly noon, he realized, and he hadn’t called the office.

“Fuck,” he muttered. He made quick work of changing the boy’s diaper. “Okay, I’m sure you’re feeling better now.” He held the boy against his side, then slung the black denim diaper bag over his shoulder and exited the bathroom, only to find Mel standing outside waiting for him.

“Brian? I’m really sorry about this, but I have to go. My boss just called, something about major problems with an appeal we’re working on. . . .”:

“It’s okay, Mel. I have no idea when Justin’s mother is going to show up.” He glanced around. “Do you know where Lindsay and Michael went?”

“I sent them to the coffee shop around the corner. I thought maybe you needed some time alone to process everything.”

“Thanks, Mel, that’s probably a good idea. Besides, I’m sure once Michael tells Deb about Finlay we won’t get a moment’s peace. Fortunately, she won’t know where to find me.” At Mel’s questioning look he elaborated, “I’ve decided to stay at Justin’s. It’ll just be easier for Finlay, he’s familiar with it and all of his things are there. I’ll just take my things over as I need them.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” She studied him for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“How long have you and Justin known each other?”

“A few months. Since the night Gus was born. Why?”

“I’m just trying to understand . . . is this how you are when you’re together? Unguarded, like all the walls have come down?”

He shrugged his shoulders and gently rubbed Finlay’s back. “Pretty much.”

“Why?”

“Because he would have immediately called me on my shit. He would have seen through the façade anyway, so there was just no point.”

“Fair enough.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her business card. “Give this to Mrs. Taylor and tell her to call me if she has any questions.”

“Thanks, Mel.” He watched for a moment as she walked away. Then looked at Finlay. “Okay, Sonnyboy, how about we go and sit outside for a few minutes, okay?”

Brian sat on a wooden bench outside the hospital, Finlay safely secured in his car seat at Brian’s side. The snow-filled early morning had given way to a bright midday, the sun shining warmly overhead. He retrieved his phone from his pocket and called the office.

“Hey, Cyn, it’s me.”

“Brian, where the hell are you? I’ve been calling all morning. Marty is royally pissed.”

“What’s my schedule look like for the rest of the day?”

“It’s clear, with the exception of a conference call at 3 with McAlister Shoes. Something about them branching into sporting equipment.”

“Then why does Marty seem to have a bug up his ass today?”

“He had been hoping you’d sit in on the Nabisco pitch with him.”

“I don’t even eat anything made by Nabisco, what the fuck does he think I could possibly have to offer during a pitch that he’s been angling for? Tell Marty I’ll be there to deal with McAlister. Also tell him that I need to meet with him privately concerning a family emergency.”

“Jesus, Brian, is everything all right?”

“No, it’s not, I’ll fill you in when I get there. I may need you to pick up the slack for me for a little while. I’ll see that you’re well-compensated.” Brian snapped his phone shut and returned his attention to Finlay, who was watching him with large blue eyes. Brian smiled and gently tickled the boy’s stomach until Finlay giggled.

“Come on, Sonnyboy. We’ll check on Daddy, then we’ll stop by my office for a little while, then maybe we can go visit Gus. After that we’ll just play it by ear.” He freed the boy from the car seat and held him against his chest. Finlay lightly tapped the side of Brian’s face.

“Da!”

“You need to learn some more words, buddy, because if that’s all you can say you’re going to confuse a lot of people.”

“Da.” Finlay’s arms snaked around Brian’s neck. As the little boy hugged him, he sniffled and said, “Love Da.”

“I love your Da, too, baby.” Brian rubbed circles on Finlay’s back, then kissed the side of his head as he made his way back into the hospital. Brian walked up to the nurse’s station and found himself standing beside an immaculately dressed blonde woman.


	8. Always

“Excuse me. I’m Jennifer Taylor. My son, Justin, was brought in this morning,” the petite woman told a nurse. 

“Yes, of course.” The nurse glanced past Mrs. Taylor, taking note of Brian and Finlay. “I suppose you’re wanting an update, too, Mr. Kinney?”

“That would be the idea,” he replied dryly, setting the empty car seat on the floor.

“His vitals are stable, he’s breathing on his own, and the swelling around his brain has gone down significantly. He’s still in a coma, though.”

“Oh God. How did this happen?” Jennifer asked, clutching at her chest.

“Blunt force trauma to the head,” the nurse read from the chart.

“The police think someone hit him in the head with a baseball bat,” Brian said quietly, taking note of Jennifer as her eyes focused on him, then on Finlay. He returned his attention to the nurse and said, “I have a few things to take care of. Call me if there are any changes in Justin’s condition.”

“Of course, Mr. Kinney.”

“I appreciate you looking after my grandson, but I can take him, now that I’m here,” Jennifer said, reaching for the little boy.

“No.” Brian stepped back, tightening his arms around Finlay.

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“Justin left Finlay in my care. That’s where he will remain until Justin wakes up and tells us otherwise.”

“I’m sorry, but Justin has never mentioned you. I highly doubt if he would prefer Finlay stay with you when I’m here to care for him.”

“When it comes to his son, Justin knows exactly what he wants. I have custody of Finlay until Justin can take care of him again.”

“And what if, God forbid, Justin isn’t all right?”

“Then I’ll raise his son as he would have. It’s what he wants, and I intend to honor that.”

“Da!”

“I know, baby, I know you miss Daddy, but we’ll see him again in a little while.” He turned back to Mrs. Taylor. “I’ve had my attorney go over the paperwork pertaining to Finlay’s guardianship, and she assures me that Justin’s attorney has covered all the bases. She wants you to call her if you have any questions.” He handed her the small white card, then turned and walked down the hall, Justin’s son held securely in one arm, the car seat and diaper bag in the other.

 

Before heading to the office, Brian and Finlay stopped at the loft. By the time they made it through the door, Finlay had fallen asleep. Deciding it may well be his only chance, Brian used naptime as an opportunity to shower and to let his mind wander a little with regard to the events of the day.

He had every confidence that Justin would be all right. He wasn’t trying to delude himself, but after having heard about everything the young man had faced in the last couple of years, he had no reason to doubt his strength and resiliency. 

Then there was also Finlay. Brian knew Justin would do everything within his means to return to his son. He had no doubt about that.

Stepping out of the shower, Brian quickly dried, styled his hair, and brushed his teeth. He glanced at Finlay as the boy began to stir, then turned his attention to his closet, scanning his wardrobe. Deciding to forego the usual business attire for the remainder of the day, he chose a pair of black stovepipe pants and a black sweater. Knowing it would be futile to change until he’d fed Finlay, he set the clothing aside and began searching through the diaper bag for the food he knew Daphne had put there.

 

An hour later Brian was ready to start handing out pink slips, and he hadn’t even made it past the lobby. He supposed he could understand his employees’ surprise at seeing him lugging an infant around. Cynthia and Marty were the only ones who knew about Gus, so he could see where his holding Finlay could earn stares. Still, that people would find it the least bit interesting struck him as incredibly ridiculous.

The elevator was fairly empty, for which he was thankful. Unfortunately, all three of its occupants were females who immediately perked up and puffed out their chests at the sight of him holding Finlay.

“Mr. Kinney. What a beautiful baby.”

“I’m afraid I can’t take the credit for this one.” He plastered a smile onto his face.

“Oh, he’s not yours?”

“Not exactly, no.” Realizing Finlay might be getting a little warm now that they were inside, he pulled off the boy’s little blue hat, exposing hair the color of cornsilk. 

“Da!”

“We’ll go see him in a little while, Sonnyboy.” Brian rubbed his back, wishing the elevator would stop on his floor soon so he and Finlay could make their escape. A moment later the elevator pinged and, with a grateful sigh, Brian stepped amid the executive offices. He entered the suite that housed his and Cynthia’s offices, not at all surprised to find his blonde assistant hunched over a file she had spread across her desk.

“Hey, Cyn.”

“Hi, Brian,” she replied, still perusing the file. “Marty’s about to shit a brick. Where the hell have you been?”

“Uh, Cyn?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop looking at the goddamn file for two seconds.”

“Huh?” She looked up, confusion marring her features. “Brian? Why are you holding a baby?”

“Long story. Remember Justin? He came up with the concept for the McAlister ad?” He looked pointedly at the file.

“Oh, yeah, sure. The blonde you were depriving of oxygen in your office.”

“Uh huh.” He dropped the diaper bag on the floor, then sat down across from her, Finlay on his knee. “Anyway, we’d stopped seeing each other for a while, but then he showed up at my place last night, a little more drunk than he should have been. So we talked for a while and decided to give things another shot. We were going to talk about things some more later on because he’d hinted that he had something really big to tell me.

“Anyway, he left early this morning, before I was really even awake. Next thing I know Michael’s screaming through the intercom that Justin’s lying on the sidewalk, unconscious and bleeding. So I spent the morning at the hospital.”

“Christ, Brian, is he okay?”

The man shook his head slightly. “He’s in a coma. The doctors aren’t sure what the long-term effects could be—they won’t know that until he wakes up.”

“Brain, I’m so sorry. How are you holding up?”

“You know, you’re the first person to ask me that. So far I’m okay. I was a huge mess for the first few hours, but I’m sure he’ll be fine.” He sighed, then looked out the window for a moment. “I just hope that when he wakes up he can identify the fucker that did this to him.”

“You mean . . .”

“It wasn’t an accident. Someone snuck up behind him and hit him in the head with a baseball bat. He wasn’t robbed, so the police don’t think it was random. They’re still investigating, though. Oh, if they call, put them through to me immediately, I don’t care what I’m doing.

“So that brings me to this little bundle of sunshine. Cynthia, I’d like to you meet Finlay Taylor.”

“Taylor?”

“Justin’s son.”

“But . . .” Her eyes drifted to the baby, noticing for the first time the blonde hair that was nearly the same shade as Justin’s. “Exactly how old is Justin?”

“Yesterday was his eighteenth birthday.”

“Shit.”

“Apparently he thought his being a teenage single father would have turned me off.”

“Wouldn’t it have?”

“If it had been anyone else.” He smiled down at Finlay as the boy sucked his thumb. “But, honestly, it’s impossible to resist these two. Anyway, I had no idea about Finlay. I just found out this morning, when Justin’s friend Daphne dropped Finlay off with me, along with all the legal documents proclaiming me Fin’s guardian.”

“Shit.”

“Uh huh. But the little man here and I have bonded. I guess I thought maybe he’d be afraid of me for a while or something, but he seems to have taken to me pretty quickly.”

“Sounds a lot like his father.”

“Of course.” Brian grinned at her, then said, “But I need a favor.”

“Yes?”

“How would you feel about babysitting duty?”

 

Half an hour later Brian found himself standing by the window in Marty’s office while the man finished a call with Nabisco. He stared out at the city’s skyline, and could almost swear he could see the hospital. He wondered if Jennifer Taylor was still there, if she had really been concerned about Justin, if she had spent any time sitting with him, or if her main intention in coming to Pittsburgh had been to find Finlay and take him back to Chicago. He hoped she’d been concerned about her son, but there was something about the way she presented herself that made him wonder. 

“Brian?”

“Hm?” Brian turned around, his arms crossed over his chest, worry still etched across his face. He slipped his hands into his pockets and began pacing back and forth in front of the other man’s desk.

“What’s going on? It’s not like you not to come in and not to call.”

“Oh, um, I need some time off. Not sure how long. Starting today. I think Cynthia can handle a lot of my accounts, she knows them as well as I do. I’ll do whatever work I can from home. She’ll still be able to reach me if she needs to. I just need this time off.”

“Now that you’re a partner you have responsibilities, you can’t just take time off whenever you feel like it.”

“When have I ever taken time off whenever I feel like it? I wouldn’t even consider this if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.” He returned to the window, staring as far down as he could and watching the people walking down the snow-dusted street. “My boyfriend was beaten and left for dead this morning, Marty. I need this time off. I’ll deal with the McAlister account. I owe him that, it was his idea, but after that I need to go. I don’t know for how long.”

“How serious are his injuries?”

“Um . . . he had emergency surgery this morning, as soon as he got to the hospital, to relieve the swelling around his brain. Right now he’s in a coma.”

“Christ,” Marty replied quietly. “Brian, I don’t mean to be insensitive, so please don’t take this the wrong way, but wouldn’t working help keep your mind off things?”

“I don’t want to keep my mind off it, Marty. Besides, there are other people to consider.” He paused as Marty’s intercom pinged.

“Mr. Ryder, Cynthia’s here to see Mr. Kinney.” Brian could hear Finlay crying in the background.

“Send her in.” He looked at Brian questioningly, but the man remained silent. 

Brian stood and opened the door as Cynthia stepped into the office, a howling Finlay in her arms.

“Christ, Cynthia.”

“I’ve tried everything, Brian, he won’t stop crying. I changed his diaper, I tried feeding him, getting him to drink something . . . nothing’s worked.”

“Brian?”

“Just a sec, Marty.” He took the sobbing boy from his assistant and held him against his chest. Finlay buried his face in the soft material of Brian’s sweater, his small hands sliding around Brian’s neck and holding tightly. He rubbed the child’s back and quietly talked to him until his sobs subsided. Directing a look of dismissal at Cynthia, Brian, carrying Finlay, returned to his seat across from Marty.

“As I was saying, there are other people to consider. Finlay here is one of them.”

“Brian, I’m afraid I just don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Justin has given me guardianship of Finlay. I figure Finlay’s already had an upsetting enough of a day, with this father being attacked and in the hospital, and being left with me, that it just wouldn’t be a good idea to thrust him back into daycare right away. He can go back tomorrow, or maybe the day after, and when he does, I intend to spend that time at the hospital with Justin.” He looked at the little boy now sleeping in his arms. “When I’m not at the hospital I’ll be available by phone. I might be able to come in once in a while. But I can’t make any promises, Marty. Justin and Finlay have to be my first priorities.” He leveled his gaze at his business partner, silently daring the man to argue.

 

Brian, and Finlay, somehow made it through the rest of the afternoon. After his nap Finlay had seemed to warm to Cynthia considerably and Brian had been able to attend to his McAlister conference without another incident. A memo had been issued stating that Brian was taking an indefinite leave of absence to deal with some family medical issues. Now, at nearly six o’clock, Finlay wide awake and bouncing in his arms, Brian pushed open the door of the Liberty diner and stepped inside. He immediately noticed the empty booth in the corner and made his way to it. Setting down the diaper bag, he barely had time to sit and perch Finlay on his lap before Debbie pounced.

“Brian!”

“Hey, Deb. Can I get a cup of coffee and a garden salad?”

“Of course.” Then she noticed Finlay. “Who’s this little guy?”

“Haven’t you talked to Michael at all today?”

“You know, we’re not joined at the hip. He does have a life. You usually talk to him more than I do. Besides, maybe he’s spent the day with David.”

“Too bad for him if he has. Anyway, this is Finlay. He’s Justin’s.”

“What!”

“Keep it down, Deb, you’re going to scare him. I’m surprised you haven’t already.” He began rummaging through the diaper bag with one hand, eventually pulling out a jar of baby food, a spoon, and a bib.

“Christ, Brian! You tell me what the fuck is going on!” Deb demanded, sitting down across from him. “Since when does Justin have a baby? He’s just a kid, for fuck’s sake. And since when do you spend time with children?”

“Look, Deb, it’s been a really bad day, and I don’t want to tell the entire story again. I’ll just say that Justin is in the hospital and he’s asked me to take care of Finlay for a little while. Get the other details from Mikey, because I really don’t want to discuss it again. Now, can I get my order?”

“Sure.” She stood and, casting another look at Brian, made her way to the kitchen. 

“Need a hand?”

Brian looked up to find Daphne standing beside the table. He grinned at her and gestured to the other side of the booth. “I’ve got everything under control, I think,” he replied, as he began spooning mashed bananas into Finlay’s mouth. “Now I know what I have to look forward to when Gus gets to be a little older. Getting spit on with a wider variety of foods.”

“Yeah, Finlay’s a riot sometimes. Justin’s always saying that Finlay’s going to be an artist too—he already knows how to blend colors.”

“I just wish he’d told me about him.” He dragged the spoon lightly across Finlay’s lips, catching the little bit that didn’t make it into the boy’s mouth. “I mean, I can understand why he didn’t, and I can understand if he ended things between us because he felt that leaving out such an important part of his life was too big a sacrifice . . . hell, I can’t fault him for that. I just wish I’d been able to see how they are together, you know?”

“Yeah.” Daphne reached across the table and lightly ruffled Finlay’s hair. “He’s a really good father. I can tell you, I was completely amazed when I met him. I mean, he looks so much younger than he is, and here he is with this baby, and when he told me he needed a babysitter for his son at night and on the weekend once in a while, I was just totally in shock. I think he knew that, but he never said anything. He even caught me staring at his wedding ring a few times . . .”

“Yeah, he told me about that in the letter that was with the legal documents,” Brian replied. He paused while Debbie set his food in front of him, then took Daphne’s order. When the woman wandered off, he continued. “When did he take his ring off?”

“Actually, it was the night he met you. He kept it on out of loyalty, I guess. He really did love his wife, but not the same way he loves you. They were friends, nothing more, nothing less. At least that’s my understanding of their relationship.”

“I just wish . . . I wish he hadn’t had to go through so much, you know? I wish he could have enjoyed being young.”

“He still can, Brian. He does. He just has to think a little bit about someone other than himself. Besides, he’ll always have me, and I’m Finlay’s favorite babysitter. Although at this point I think I’m more like his aunt.”

“Well, I’m glad they have you.”

“You do, too, Brian, okay? Anytime you need anything, I’ll be there. After all, you’re Finlay’s second dad now, right?”

“I guess.” He chuckled, then handed Finlay his bottle. “Christ. Justin sure knows how to make me commit, doesn’t he?”

“Don’t tell me you weren’t ready to before you met Finlay.”

“Maybe.”

“Anyway, here’s Justin’s key and address. Home phone number. Insurance cards. He kept copies in his desk in this envelope in case anything happened. I just forgot it when I was rushing out of the apartment this morning.” She slid it across the table to him. “I stopped by the hospital on my way here.”

“Oh? Is his mother still there?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what her plans are. I think she had Justin’s address, so she might stop by the apartment, I’m not really sure. I don’t know how she’ll get in, unless she convinces the super to let her in. She doesn’t know you’re going to be staying there.”

“Well, she’ll be in for a bit of a surprise, then.”

“Oh, and another guy was there. I can’t remember his name. He’s short, dark hair, tee shirt with a comic book character on it . . .”

“That would be Michael. What’s Michael doing there?”

“I don’t know, but he was talking to Justin’s mother, and she didn’t look too happy.”

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“Let me call him, see what I can find out.” He pulled out his phone and hit speed dial. After a few rings it was picked up. “Hi Michael. I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure, Brian, anything.”

“What the fuck were you doing talking to Justin’s mother at the hospital?”

“What?”

“Don’t even think about trying to bullshit me, because I know you were, I’m at this moment sitting across from someone who saw you talking to her.”

“So what if I was?”

“What did you tell her, Mikey?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you tell her about me? About my relationship with Justin?”

“I might have mentioned it.”

“What, exactly, might you have mentioned?”

“Just that you were a good person. That you might not be son-in-law material, but you didn’t believe in marriage, anyway, so you wouldn’t marry Justin, but you seemed to like him well enough, and that even though you were sleeping together, you seemed to be friends, too.”

“Christ, Michael, why can’t you ever keep your mouth shut?”

“Brian, I don’t--.”

“His parents didn’t know, Michael, all right? He never told them he was gay.”

“Since when are you willing to spend time with anyone who isn’t, more or less, out of the closet?”

“Since the reason he was in the closet was because he was afraid his parents might use that information to take his son from him, you stupid fuck.” Brian snapped the phone shut and tossed it onto the table.

“Well, I think it’s a pretty safe bet that you’re going to be getting a visit from Mother Taylor tonight,” Daphne said. “So what are you going to do?”

 

What _was_ he going to do? That was the entire question. There was no doubt about his staying at Justin’s apartment. He was sure, given his reasons, the younger man would wholeheartedly support his decision. Lindsay had drilled into him, throughout her pregnancy with Gus, the importance of a stable routine in a child’s life, and he intended to do his best to see that Finlay’s environment remained as stable as possible.

So that was how he found himself wandering around Justin’s apartment while Finlay napped less than two hours after leaving the diner. Brian could tell immediately that Justin had put a lot of effort into making his home comfortable. The walls had been painted a variety of colors, the living room a pale ice blue, the kitchen a warm buttery yellow, the bathroom terra cotta. Finlay’s room had been especially impressive; Justin had covered the two walls against which Finlay’s crib rested, with extremely detailed murals showing places in Chicago and Pittsburgh, as well as famous landmarks in other cities. Inserted into these locations were various Disney, Sesame Street, and Spongebob characters, as well as Finlay himself.

The only room Brian avoided was Justin’s. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see the room, but he didn’t feel right about wandering in without Justin’s knowledge. If, when Justin awoke, he told him he could go in, then maybe he would. Or maybe he’d wait for Justin to get out of the hospital.

He wandered around the living room, taking in the little touches Justin had placed throughout the room. A delicately-woven Irish shawl was carefully pressed between two immense sheets of Plexiglas, secured around the edges with a thin band of black plastic, and hung against the far wall above a bookcase. Brian studied the books. There were several books he knew Justin must be using to finish school, as well as the complete _Tales of the City_ series, biographies of Picasso, Michaelangelo, Rodin, and Munch, as well as a few novels by Jack Kerouac, John Rechy, and the poetry of Allen Ginsberg. 

Against the adjacent wall was a painting, clearly of Finlay, when the boy was much younger. He was lying on a blue blanket, sucking his thumb as he slept. Brian couldn’t help smiling as he looked at it. Then he noticed the black and white picture hung just below it. It was of Justin and a girl Brian immediately knew was Shannon. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail. She was smiling, her dark shirt pulled up to just beneath her breasts, revealing a very pregnant belly. Justin must have been kneeling, for he was leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the woman’s stomach. The love they had for their unborn child was unmistakable, as was the joy of impending parenthood, regardless of their youth.

A chill went up Brian’s spine. He sunk into the closest chair, then leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his flat stomach as the silent sobs once again ripped through his body. This time, though, they were unlike the tears from earlier that morning. Those tears had been a mixture of fear and anger. These were of incredible sadness, that Justin’s own family had been virtually destroyed, that Finlay would never know his mother, and now maybe not his father, either. That a family that, for all intents and purposes, had been created for all the wrong reasons, could turn out so right, and then be destroyed, one member at a time, when his own immediate family was a fucking hate-filled mess and they were all still alive and unharmed.

It wouldn’t do anyone any good to think this way, Brian eventually decided, as he stood on shaky legs and made his way into the small bathroom just off the hallway leading from the living room to the kitchen. Justin was going to be fine, and when he could, he would come home and take up his place as Finlay’s parent. Brian splashed some cold water on his face, washing the tear tracks away and, hopefully, reducing the puffiness around his eyes. 

When he came out of the bathroom, it was to find Mrs. Taylor standing in the middle of the living room, looking around. Her eyes immediately focused on him.

“I didn’t think anyone was here, I had the super let me in.”

“I figured as much.” He raked his hand through his hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see where Justin was living. He wouldn’t let me visit.”

“I’m sure he had a good reason for that.”

“Where’s my grandson?”

“Asleep. He’s had a tough day. Is Justin’s father in town, too?”

“No. He had to stay home. He has a business to run.” She gazed around the apartment. “It’s kind of small, isn’t it?”

“Justin seems to like it. I’m sure he’d like something bigger eventually. He’ll need a bigger place when Finlay gets older, but for now I’m sure it’s fine.” Brian stuffed his hands into the pockets of the jeans he had changed into. “Look, I know Mikey talked to you, so go ahead and say whatever it is you want to say.” He stepped slightly closer to her, looking her in the eye as he spoke.

“I guess I’m still trying to take it all in. I don’t understand . . . he was married. He was happy. I don’t understand what made him change.” She threw up her hands helplessly, then sunk onto the couch.

“He’s the same person he’s always been. A person can’t change who they are, who they’re attracted to.”

“Then explain Finlay.”

“It’s not my place to explain Justin’s relationship with his wife, or the circumstances surrounding Finlay’s conception, okay? You knew Shannon, I didn’t. Justin’s only ever told me about her in a letter he wrote me that I received this morning. I honestly don’t know much about his life before he came here. But I know he loved his wife, and I know he loves his son.” He leveled his gaze at her. “Now, what’s the real reason his father isn’t here? Because it sure as hell isn’t business. If anything ever happened to my son business wouldn’t keep me from being with him.”

“Well, I’m sure he has a lot more responsibilities than you do. He’s much more established.”

“Don’t make assumptions about me because you really don’t know what you’re talking about, Mrs. Taylor.”

“I know there must be something wrong with you if you want to spend your time with a child like Justin.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! Will you please try and look at the situation for what it is? Justin is not a little boy, he hasn’t been for a long time. He’s an adult, a parent who would do anything for his child. He came here so that he could raise Finlay the way he saw fit--.”

“Including exposing him to you?”

“You don’t know anything about me. Do you honestly think he would leave his son in my care if he thought I would hurt him? I love Justin and I love Finlay. I would do anything in my power to keep them safe.”

“Then how did this happen to Justin?”

“I can’t be there all the time, Mrs. Taylor. Surely you must realize that.”

“He shouldn’t have been out walking so early in the morning. It’s just not safe.”

“The area he was walking in is a very safe area. I wouldn’t live there if it wasn’t. I’ve spoken with the police, they’re still investigating it, but they think he was targeted, that someone was waiting for him.” He looked at the woman who was obviously still stunned at the day’s events.

“Why would anyone do that?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

“You said it happened where you live? What was he doing there at the time of the morning? He should have been here with Finlay.”

“Daphne was with Finlay. He was fine. As for what he was doing at my place, that’s really none of your business, is it?”

“You must realize that your relationship with Justin isn’t right. And it’s definitely not right to expose my grandson to it,” she ranted, as said grandson awoke and began whimpering, his cries echoing through the monitor. Brian immediately made his way to the child’s room, doing his best to ignore Justin’s mother as she followed behind him.

“Hey, there, Sonnyboy.” Brian reached into the crib and picked up the little boy, cradling him against his chest and rubbing his back. He lightly bounced him until his cries lessened, then carried him into the living room. Sitting on the couch, he propped his feet on the footlocker and seated Finlay in the vee his legs had created. Finlay latched onto Brian’s index fingers, and as the man began moving Finlay’s arms around the little boy began to giggle. “Look,” he began, as Justin’s mother sat down in the chair across from him, “I understand that you might not like me, that you might think I corrupted Justin, made him the way he is, but no one can make someone gay or straight. They are what they are, and there’s no escaping that.”

“And you have to understand, Mr. Kinney, that Justin was raised Catholic, and that we don’t believe in what you’re doing.”

“Well, there’s something else Justin and I have in common, because I was raised Catholic, too. And Irish Catholic, to boot. So I think I know a thing or two about how our relationship will be viewed. But I know Justin well enough to know that he’s not willing to subjugate who he is to please everyone else.”

“Then why didn’t he tell me sooner?”

“Why should he tell you? It’s none of your business. Christ, I haven’t told my parents for that exact reason. Though if they ever paid attention to anything, they would have figured it out a long time ago.” He looked her squarely in the eye while continuing to play with Finlay. “If he had told you, what would you have done? Sent him to therapy? Tried to convert him? Tried to convince him that eventually he’d meet the right girl and realize he was just confused? Because I can tell you right now, he’s not the least bit confused.”

“He’s too young to know what he wants.” Her eyes drifted to Finlay for a moment. “I really think it would be for the best if I were to take Finlay back to Chicago.”

“No. Justin wants him to stay here with me.”

“Yes, I spoke to your lawyer, she said that Justin’s got all the paperwork in order. But I’m willing to fight you on this. My grandson belongs with his family.”

“ ‘Family’ as defined by blood ties is an archaic concept. The only family worth having is one that accepts you for who you are, not one that wants to make you someone you aren’t. And if you have to create that family from among friends, then so be it.”

“Nonetheless, Finlay belongs with me.”

“No he doesn’t. Justin has named me his guardian. And if you want to fight me, go right on ahead. I’m not some scared fag who’ll turn tail and run. I have all the time and all the money in the world to devote to keeping Finlay with his father.”

“Well, you have to work sometime. I don’t. I can devote a lot more time than you can to fighting for Finlay’s best interests.”

“Hm, well, I own the largest advertising agency in Pennsylvania, so I can have all the underlings do the actual work and still make money. So try me. It’s not a fight you’ll win.” He looked down at Finlay and smiled at the little boy. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, the little man here needs a snack and a bath before bedtime.” Standing, he held Finlay against his hip and made his way to the door. He opened it and stood waiting for Mrs. Taylor to leave.

“I’m staying in Pittsburgh for a few days, hopefully Justin will be awake by then and will see that his son belongs with me.” Squaring her shoulders and holding her head high, she exited the apartment.


	9. Always

Two days passed with Brian and Finlay following the same routine. Brian would sleep in until nine, then he would fold up the sleeper sofa and make his way into Finlay’s room. Every morning the little boy would already be awake, lying in his crib and watching the colorful mobile that hung above him. Brian thought that was a bit unusual, Lindsay was always saying that Gus would scream for her the minute he woke up. Finlay must have learned to wait for Justin. Then again, Gus was quite a bit younger, and certainly still lacking in patience as a result.

He and Finlay would have their breakfasts, coffee and two slices of unbuttered toast for Brian, Cheerios and some type of mashed fruit, usually bananas, for Finlay, along with a bottle of juice or milk. Brian would give Finlay a bath, then he would shower while Finlay played in his playpen. They would get dressed, pack their things, then head for the Jeep. After he had dropped Finlay off at daycare, Brian would drive directly to the hospital. For the next few hours he would sit with Justin, watch t.v., which he despised, but thought the other man might appreciate, ramble on about mundane things, and read to him, usually from the New York Times or one of his artist biographies.

Justin’s mother usually wasn’t there when he showed up, but sometimes she would arrive while he was there, or he would see her in the hall. On the third day that Justin was in the coma, his mother stood outside the window of his room and watched as Brian sat with her son.

“Hey, Sunshine. Guess what? Your mother is staring at us right now. She’s looking through the window and her forehead is all wrinkled up, and she keeps pushing her hair behind her ear. I’m sure that’s a nervous tic of some sort.” He hadn’t told Justin about his mother’s threatening to take Finlay back to Chicago, as the young man certainly didn’t need something else to worry about while he tried to find his way back to reality. “How much do you wanna bet she’s waiting for me to ravage you so she can call security and claim I’m attacking you? Too bad we can’t give her a show, huh?” He took Justin’s hand in his and twined his fingers with the younger man’s. “Okay, enough about your mother, I know you don’t really want to hear about her anyway. So, on to better subjects. I talked to Daphne a little while ago, she’s going to come over tonight and hang out with Finlay and me. We’re going to rent movies or something. Just a relaxing night at your apartment.” He reached forward and ran his fingers over Justin’s lips. “Hm, I think you need a little Chapstick.” He opened the drawer beside Justin’s bed and pulled out a little pot of lip balm. “I got you some that’s cherry flavored. Thought it might be a nice change from the stuff the hospital’s been using on you.” He let go of Justin’s hand and opened the lip balm, sliding his finger along the top, gathering some of the balm and spreading it carefully along Justin’s lips. Then he leaned over and gently kissed the younger man. “There, that’s better.”

“Bri.” His name was spoken softly, barely audible as it came out on a breath of air. “Fin—Finlay.”

“Jus? Finlay’s fine, he’s at daycare.” Brian leaned over, watching as Justin slowly opened his eyes, the baby blues unfocused for a moment, before they found him. Brian gently pressed the call button, then leaned down and kissed Justin again. “I love you, baby,” he whispered.

“Love you, too, Bri,” he whispered as a nurse rushed into the room, Jennifer Taylor following closely behind.

“What did you do to him? What’s going on?” she demanded, staring at Brian.

“Mom?”

“Oh, sweetie!”

“Go ‘way.”

“Justin?” Her voice shook, her tears obviously ready to erupt at any minute.

“Go.”

“Maybe it would be best if you were to wait outside, Mrs. Taylor,” the nurse interjected, taking note of the increase on Justin’s heart monitor.

“But . . .”

“Go.”

“Baby, it’s okay, she’s going, all right? We’ll call security if we have to,” Brian said quietly.

“Wanna see Finlay.”

“I’ll call Daphne after we talk with your doctor and have her pick him up and bring him over, okay?” He leaned forward and placed a light kiss on Justin’s forehead. Then he took the cup of ice chips that the nurse handed him.

“These might help his throat. I’ll go get Dr. Rashid, he’s going to be very pleased with this turn of events.” The nurse smiled again, then turned and walked out of the room.

Brian carefully elevated the bed and began placing the ice chips in Justin’s mouth until his throat stopped hurting quite so much.

“Bri?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck do you have to be sorry about?”

“Not telling you the truth. Dropping Finlay on you like I did.”

“Well, I have to admit that I was a little stunned when Daphne brought him by. But I understand why you didn’t tell me. Still, I think it’s safe to say that I don’t want a repeat of that type of situation. So you don’t have any more children floating around, do you?”

“Hmph, no. Asshole.”

“Yep, you’re gonna be good as new.”

“Bri?”

“Yeah?”

“How long have I been here?”

“Three days.”

“Fuck.”

“Later. You have to recover first.”

“Kiss me.”

“I’ll always kiss you, baby.” He leaned over and pressed his lips lightly against the other man’s, moving away only when the clearing of a throat caught his attention. Looking up, Brian found Dr. Rashid standing just inside the door.

“Well, Justin, I’m glad to see you’re awake,” he said, moving over to the bed and consulting the machines surrounding the bed, then looking at Justin’s chart. “From what I can see right now, you’re a very lucky young man. We’ll need to run some tests, though, just to get a proper assessment of your condition.”

“I wanna go home,” he whispered. “Though my head hurts like a motherfucker.”

“We need to see how you are before we can determine a possible time for you to leave,” the doctor said.

“Jus? If you have to stay here, you have to stay here. You need to get better so you can take care of Finlay.”

“Wanna see him.”

“Doctor, would it be all right if I brought his son in to see him now that he’s awake?”

“As long as it’s for just a few minutes, like last time.” He glanced at the chart again. “Justin? I hate to bring this up, but I’m afraid I have to. The police have indicated that they would like to talk to you as soon as you’re capable.”

“Police?”

“Yeah, baby.” Brian slipped his hand into Justin’s and lightly squeezed his fingers. “They’re trying to figure out who hurt you.”

“No, Bri, no.” Silent tears began pooling in his eyes, then spilled and ran down his cheeks.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay.” Brian buried his face in the crook of Justin’s neck, steadily whispering to him. “I’ll stay with you, I won’t let anyone get to you again, I promise, Justin, okay? But if you saw who it was, if you remember anything at all, you have to tell us, tell the police, so they can arrest whoever did this.”

“E—Ethan.”

“Who’s Ethan?”

“From work. He kept asking me out. I always said no. I told him I was busy with school and other commitments. Said I was sort of seeing someone.”

“Okay.” Brian pushed his rage into the pit of his stomach, knowing that it would be no use to express it at this moment. “When the police come you have to tell them, okay?”

“Stay with me.”

“I will. Always, baby, always.”

“Mr. Kinney? I need to examine Mr. Taylor now.”

“All right.” He turned his attention back to Justin. “I’m just going to step into the hall and call Daphne, all right? That way she can have Finlay here by the time the doctor’s done checking you out, okay?”

“You’re coming back, right?”

“Of course. Like I said . . . always.” He leaned forward and gently kissed Justin. “Here, just so you know I mean it.” He untied his cowry shell bracelet, then tied it around Justin’s left wrist. “I love you, baby.”

“Love you, too, Bri.”

Brian stood and made his way out of the hospital room. Justin’s mother, who had been watching the entire scene through the window, immediately confronted him.

“What’s going on?”

“The doctor is going to check him over, see if there’s anything wrong that’s not clear just from looking at him. He’s talking, he seems to know who everyone is and what’s going on. Beyond that, I can’t really tell you anything. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to call Daphne and have her bring Finlay here.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Well, Mrs. Taylor, it doesn’t really matter what you think, since Justin is Finlay’s father. After everything he’s been through the last few days, he needs to see his son so that he can know for himself that Finlay’s okay, that no one took him away. He won’t begin to calm down until that happens.” Turning his back on Justin’s mother, he stepped out the door at the end of the hall so that he could call Daphne.

He dialed Daphne’s number, not really surprised when the overly-bubbly girl answered on the first ring.

“Hey, Brian, what’s up?”

“I’ve got fantastic news. Justin woke up.”

“Shit! When?”

“About fifteen minutes ago. He wants to see Finlay.”

“Is he at daycare? Cause I’m not doing anything right now, I can go pick him up.”

“Actually, that’s exactly why I called. I’m sure he’d want to see you, too, but right now all he really wants is to make sure Finlay’s okay.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Call the daycare and let them know Justin’s awake and I’m going to be picking Finlay up.”

“I will. See you in a little while, Daph.”

When Brian returned to Justin’s room a short time later, having called the daycare as per Daphne’s request, it was to find not only the doctor, but one detective and a uniformed police officer questioning Justin. 

“Bri.” The younger man looked at him pleadingly.

“It’s okay, baby.” He moved over to Justin’s bed, taking the other man’s hand in his. “I called Daphne, she’s on her way to get Finlay.”

“And who is Finlay?” the detective asked, making a note of the name.

“My son.” 

“Your son?”

“Yes, my son,” Justin replied angrily. “Teenage fags can have children, too, you know. It’s not something that happens purely to straight people.”

“Calm down.”

“I’ll fucking calm down when I feel like it. I already told you what I remember, I turned around and I saw Ethan Gold swing a bat at my head. Considering the force that goes into swinging a bat, it’s a miracle I remember it at all. It’s a fucking miracle I’m not dead!”

“Mr. Taylor, you need to calm down.”

“Actually, I think you need to leave,” the doctor chimed in. “You’re upsetting my patient and he really doesn’t need that right now.”

“Well, we’ll be sure to check into this . . . Ethan Gold, and we’ll let you know how that turns out.” Then, without another word, the officer and the detective turned and left the room.

“I’ll be back to check on you again in a little while,” Dr. Rashid said, then he, too, left the room.

“So what’d the doctor have to say?” Brian sat on the edge of Justin’s bed and threaded his fingers through the younger man’s.

“My right side it pretty weak. Not so much my leg, but my arm.” He sighed. “Guess that pretty much rules out art school, at least for a while. I was really looking forward to it, too."

“Don’t give up so easily, if you want it to happen, it will. It might take longer than you’d like, but it’ll happen. Besides, you’ve been through a hell of a lot and you’ve always managed to come out on top.”

“Not always.” Justin grinned weakly at him.

“Maybe when you’re feeling better?” Brian arched his eyebrow at Justin. “Anyway, I hate to bring this up, but your mother is still in the hall, and I don’t think she plans on leaving anytime soon.”

“She just wants to tell me how to run my life. She thinks I’m still this little kid who has to be told how to do things. She’s always trying to tell me how to raise Finlay, as if she really cares. She wants to raise him herself, you know.”

“I figured as much.” He looked at Justin for a moment. “There’s more.”

“What?”

“Mikey told her about us.”

“What?”

“She knows you’re gay, and she knows we’re lovers.”

“Fuck! She’s going to use that against me. She’s going to try and take Finlay from me. I hope you told Michael what a fuckhead he was being by doing that.”

“I have, and I will again as soon as I see him. He’s been doing a good job of avoiding me these past couple of days.”

“Christ, as if my head didn’t hurt enough already.”

“Did the doctor give you anything?”

“Not yet. Whatever he gives me will probably knock me out, and I want to see my son. So I asked him to hold off for a little while. I can put up with the pain if it means I get to see him.”

“Did someone just ask for his darling boy?” Daphne appeared in the doorway, Finlay held tightly against her chest. She smiled and carried him over to Justin.

“Hey, little man.” Justin smiled at his son for a moment, then frowned slightly. “I’m not sure how weak my arm is.”

“Can you scoot forward a little?” Brian asked, standing. Justin looked at him, slightly confused, but nodded and did as the older man asked. Brian unzipped his boots, tossed them by the wall, and climbed onto the bed behind Justin, putting one leg on either side of the younger man. “Okay, now lean back.” Justin did as instructed. “Okay, Daphne, hand the kid over.”

“Brian . . .”

“It’s all right, I’ve got you,” he whispered into Justin’s ear.

Daphne carefully set Finlay in Justin’s arms, and Brian immediately positioned his own arms as supports so that Justin could hold his son.

“God, I’ve missed him,” Justin said as tears began to fall down his cheeks. “I can’t believe this happened. I can’t believe he almost lost me.”

“Almost only counts in horseshoes,” Daphne chimed in. “Doesn’t matter what almost happened, the fact is he didn’t lose you. You’re still here and, by the looks of it, he may have gained another daddy.” Her eyes twinkled as she looked at Brian.

“Daph? I think you may be jumping the gun slightly.” Justin chuckled and looked at his son again. The little boy was wide awake, but calmly lying in his father’s arms, apparently content to be with his father once again. “So, little man, how are you liking the loft?”

“Um, actually, I’ve been staying with him at your place,” Brian said quietly, as Daphne handed Justin a bottle for Finlay.

“Really? Why?”

“I just thought it was the best thing for Finlay. I didn’t want to upset his routine any more than it already was. Though, I have to say, we’ve managed to bond pretty quickly.” 

“I’m glad. So you’re really not mad that I named you his guardian?” Justin handed Finlay the bottle and the little boy immediately began sucking on it.

“I was never mad about that. I think surprised would be the more apt term.” He looked down at the little boy. “He looks just like you.”

“He’s got Shannon’s nose. And I think his eyes will be more like hers. I think they’ll start to take on a little green, along with the blue.”

“Justin?”

Brian, Justin, and Daphne turned toward the door to see Jennifer standing there. Brian felt Justin tense for a moment, causing Finlay to become startled and pull the bottle from his mouth.

“If you don’t want her here, just say so, and we’ll get her to leave, okay?” Brian whispered.

“Um, no, it’s all right. If I don’t talk to her she’ll never leave. Just stay with me, okay?”

“Always.” He lightly kissed the side of Justin’s head, then reached down and caressed Finlay’s pudgy arm.

“Uh . . . I’m just going to go get something to drink,” Daphne said, “I’ll be back in a little while.” 

Justin watched as she turned and left the room. Then his gaze focused on his mother. He really didn’t want to see her, didn’t want to hear how once again he was a disappointment, that he wasn’t living the life she’d anticipated for him. He knew it was coming, when all he wanted was to hold his son for a little while, then take some very strong painkillers and sink into oblivion. He leaned against Brian even more, relishing the strong body that supported him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly, glancing up from Finlay for a moment, before slipping the bottle out of his mouth and holding it up to see how much juice he’d had to drink.

“Daphne called when she found out what happened. I came as soon as I could get a flight out of O’Hare. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit. What do you expect?” He glanced around for a moment. “Dad’s not here, is he?”

“No, he stayed in the city. The business won’t run itself.”

“Of course.” His voice was tinged with bitterness. “And who would possibly think that spending time with your son, who almost died, might be slightly more important than business?”

“Justin, sweetheart, I really don’t think we should be discussing all this unpleasantness while company is present.”

“Brian is not company, he’s my lover, so whatever you have to say to me you can say in front of him.” His voice remained quiet, not wanting to upset Finlay. “You and Dad threw me out of the house over a year ago, so I really don’t think I have to answer to you. What you want and how you feel about how I live my life are of no concern to me. I have my own family, and if you and Dad don’t want to be part of that, then that’s fine. I just hope that when Molly is old enough to make her own decisions that you don’t denigrate them, the way you have my decisions.”

“Justin, I only want what’s best for you. And I think that returning to Chicago and raising Finlay among his family would be the best thing.”

“I am his family. Brian is his family. Daphne is his family. Shannon was his family. He has all the family he needs.”

“Connor and Maureen would like to see him.”

“No fucking way! They are not going to turn him against me. I know they’re upset, I know that losing a child has to be the worst thing a person can go through, but maybe it wouldn’t have been quite so hard if they hadn’t treated Shannon with contempt during the last few months of her life. I won’t let them treat my son that way, and if I give them the chance, they will do exactly that. Especially when you tell them I’m a fag.”

“You are not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Yeah, he is,” Brian intoned, lightly rubbing Justin’s tense stomach. He knew his head must be aching, that he wasn’t really in the mood to talk to his mother, but it wasn’t his place to point out either of these facts.

“I’ve always known, all right? Christ, even Shannon knew. I told her before we got married. But we were still friends, and we were happy together, and we would have raised Finlay together. But that’s not what happened, so now I’m here, in Pittsburgh, raising my son the best way I see fit. And that includes giving Brian guardianship.” He glared at the woman for a moment. “You can look at me with disgust all you want, it’s not going to change who I am or who I love. And I love Brian.”

“But Michael said--.”

“Michael doesn’t really know me anymore,” Brian said, gently rubbing the tenseness out of Justin’s neck with his left hand, while continuing to support both Justin and Finlay with his right arm. “He knows who I used to be, but not who I am now.”

“Justin, it’s not healthy for a child to be exposed to . . . to . . .”

“To two people who love each other? It’s certainly a better example for him than the one you and Dad provided me and Molly, what with Dad banging every secretary under thirty that he could find. And you, with your tennis instructor. I know all about it, so don’t even try acting like you have the perfect relationship by which to judge all others.” He leaned tiredly against Brian, turning his head so that it was buried against Brian’s chest. “I can’t deal with this anymore right now.”

“Okay. I’m going to get up, just set Finlay on your lap, he’ll be fine there for a few minutes.” Brian climbed out of bed and put on his shoes. Leaning over, he kissed Justin, lightly tracing his tongue along the other man’s lips before quickly dipping inside. Pulling away, he gently kissed the man’s cheek, then planted a kiss on Finlay’s forehead, much to the child’s delight. Taking Mrs. Taylor’s elbow, he escorted her out of the room.

“I think it would be best for all involved if you returned to Chicago. Justin is in no condition for this type of drama right now. He needs to concentrate on getting well so that he can take care of his son. That’s his only concern right now. He doesn’t particularly care how you or his father feel about how he’s leading his life. He just wants to go back to being a father to Finlay. When he has the time and the energy to deal with you, then I’m sure he will.” Brian immediately turned around and walked back into Justin’s room. He found the younger man reclining against the headboard, silent tears running down his cheeks, Finlay lying on his chest.

“Brian?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can you get the nurse? I really need that painkiller now.”

“Sure.” He pressed the call button. A moment later the nurse arrived, a capped syringe in one hand and a bottle of some sort of painkiller in the other. 

“This what you wanted?”

“Yeah.”

“I figured, when I looked at your chart and saw that you hadn’t had it yet.” She began filling the syringe, making conversation as she did so. “This your little brother?” She looked down at Finlay, who was asleep on Justin’s chest.

“No. He’s my son.”

“Awfully young, aren’t you?” She pressed the tip of the syringe into his arm.

“Yeah. But I wouldn’t change it.”

“Okay, all done. You should have about five minutes before it makes you fall asleep. After that, I think everyone should go home and let you rest.”

“Okay.” Justin turned his head and gazed at Brian. “Daphne’s probably still waiting around somewhere. The three of you should go somewhere, do something fun . . . I doubt if you’ve had much fun in the last few days.”

“None of us have, baby.” Brian leaned forward, one hand on Finlay’s back and the other holding Justin’s, and gently kissed the younger man. “But I knew you’d be okay. Now, I think it would be best if you got lots and lots of sleep. Once you’ve had a chance to rest and heal you’ll feel a million times better, I promise. I’ll stay until you fall asleep, okay? And then I’ll take Finlay home and put him to bed.”

“You’re a really good dad, Brian,” Justin whispered, closing his eyes and letting out a puff of air.

Brian stared at him for a moment, then shifted his gaze to the little blonde boy sleeping on his father’s chest. And, as he gazed at the child, he couldn’t help wonder at the meaning behind Justin’s words.

 

After Brian left the hospital, leaving Justin in a peaceful, drug-induced sleep, he had intended to take Finlay back to Justin’s apartment, but instead he found himself bringing the Jeep to a stop in front of Deb’s house. 

“So, this is the little man I’ve been hearing so much about,” Vic exclaimed as he opened the door to Brian and Finlay. 

“Yep. Finlay, Vic, Vic, Finlay.”

“Christ, he looks just like Justin, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Brian replied, stepping into the house and carrying the little boy over to the couch.

“So how’s Justin doing?”

“He woke up a few hours ago. He’s going to be okay. His right arm’s a little weak and he had a bitch of a headache. Other than that, the doctor thinks he’ll be fine. They want to keep him for a couple more days, and then he can go home.”

“That’s great!’

“Yeah.”

“So what’s got you so troubled?” Vic reached forward and brushed Finlay’s wispy blonde hair away from his forehead. 

“Michael.”

“What’s my nephew done this time?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I can usually deal with all his shit, but I’m getting so fucking tired of him acting like he owns me. Like Justin’s just a convenient fuck.”

“Anyone with eyes can tell he’s much more than that,” Vic said quietly. “Michael knows it, too.”

“He’s got to stop being so obsessed with me. It’s just making him angry when I don’t fit the ideal he has of me. I’m always supposed to be out fucking every guy I see, and, I don’t know, maybe that’s just not me anymore. And now he’s angry, and taking that out on Justin. It was one thing when Justin could defend himself, but when he was in the coma . . .”

“What? What did Michael do?”

“Justin’s mother had flown in from Chicago to see him. They don’t get along, Justin hasn’t lived with his parents in over a year—it’s a long story. Anyway, Michael took it upon himself to out Justin to his mother.”

“Shit!”

“And I know Justin, he would have been out a long time ago if he didn’t have Finlay to consider. He’s had a hard enough time being a teenage single father, trying to keep his mother from trying to get custody of his son, without her having the added ammunition of his being gay. If she’d taken him to court, before he turned eighteen, that is, she could have used that against him and taken his son from him. You know as well as I do that that could have very well happened. And that’s why he never told her. But Michael felt that it was his place to impart this little tidbit of information.”

“How the fuck did Michael get to be so stupid?”

“He knew, Vic. He did it on purpose. He was there when I called Daphne and asked her if his parents knew. He didn’t hear her answer but he saw my reaction, so he knew. And he’s been avoiding me for the last few days. With Michael, that’s always a sign of guilt. Now I don’t know if I should just wait for him to stop his sulking and come to me, or if I should just confront him directly, get everything out in the open, and be done with it.”

“I think you should do whatever you need to do in order to focus all your energy on Justin and his son, and, of course, Gus.”

“So if I lay into the sonofabitch at the next available opportunity, you won’t hold it against me?” he asked with a grin, looking down at Finlay, taking in the way the boy’s eyelashes rested peacefully against his cheeks.

“Look, Brian, I know you care about Michael. But I also know you love Justin, much more than you’ve been willing to let on to us. And that’s fine, that’s nobody’s business but yours. So if you need to spell things out to Michael, to make him see the difference between the two, then that’s fine. It’s about time he figured it out. And that goddamn nephew of mine had absolutely no business telling Justin’s mother what he did. How he could do that is beyond me, when he’s not willing to live openly himself.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m going after him. I’m sure Deb will think that, you know how she always jumps to conclusions about things without hearing the whole story. I’m sure that’s where Michael gets it from. But he just needs to understand that I have a life that doesn’t totally involve him, and that Justin is the biggest part of that. And Finlay, too, of course, now that I know of his existence.”

“Justin didn’t tell you about him at all?” Vic asked, gazing down at the little blonde head.

“No. But I’m okay with that, I understand his rationale. And he’s assured me he has no more children that might suddenly pop out of the woodwork.”

“At his age I should hope not.” His eyes shifted to Finlay once again. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. He looks so much like Justin. But he looks like his mother, too. I saw a picture of her. I’ve been staying at Justin’s apartment, trying to not upset Finlay’s usual routine all that much. There’s so much about his life in the last couple of years that he just didn’t tell me. And I think, if it were anyone else, I’d be furious. But I understand why he held back, and I can’t really fault him for that.”

“You wanna know something?”

“Hm?”

“I never thought I would say this to you, but I’m glad that I can. If you give yourself a chance, you will be a wonder partner and father.” The older man smiled at him and Brian couldn’t help the grin that began to form on his lips.

“I’m glad you have that confidence in me, Vic.”

“Seems Justin does too. He _did_ appoint you his son’s guardian. So, in a way, he must consider you another of Finlay’s parents.”

“Well, even if that’s the case, it’s not something I’m going to confront him about just yet. He needs to get his bearings. I’m sure when they catch that little fucker who attacked him there’ll be a trial, and even if there isn’t, if he pleads guilty, it’s still going to cause problems for Justin. There’s no way he can go through this and not have problems other than physical. Besides, we’d just decided to get back together the night before this happened, so we still have a lot to talk about.”

“Understandable,” Vic replied, as Finlay began to awaken. “Well, hello there, little man.” He waved at the little boy, who immediately burst out in giggles. “Oh, he’s adorable.”

“Yeah.”

“He has Justin’s smile.”

“Uh huh.”

“Of all the things to inherit from him, that’s got to be one of the best.”

“I thought so, too.” He lightly patted Finlay’s diaper. “I think someone needs to be changed. I’ll be right back, Vic.”

While Brian was in the upstairs bathroom changing Finlay’s diaper he heard the front door open, heard Debbie’s raucous laughter, and Michael’s petulant voice. He looked at the little boy he now held, freshly changed, against his hip.

“So, Fin, it looks like I’m going to have this talk with Mikey tonight, okay? Because I can’t have him being mean to your daddy like that, can I? So I’m going to leave you in Vic’s capable hands. So let’s go and get this over with.” Brian threw the diaper bag over his shoulder and made his way downstairs. 

“Brian! What are you doing here?” Deb screeched. Finlay’s eyes went wide and began to water, his lips quivering slightly.

“Christ, Deb, keep it down, will you? You’re scaring him.”

“I never thought I would have seen it—Brian fucking Kinney being all fatherly.”

“I _do_ have a child of my own.”

“Which child are you talking about? Seems lately you have three,” Michael groused. He eyed Finlay, staring at the small boy, his eyes becoming small and, somehow, impossibly darker.

“Justin isn’t a child. I think that’s pretty obvious,” Brian pointed out. He turned to Vic. “Vic, would you watch Finlay for me? Michael and I need to talk.”

“Sure,” he replied, as Brian settled the little boy on the older man’s lap, then grabbed a bottle from the diaper bag.   
“He should be okay for a while, but he’s going to be full of energy. Let him crawl around a little if he wants.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the little boy’s forehead, then turned to Mikey. “Upstairs.”

“What’s going on, Brian?” Michael asked, once they were in his old bedroom.

“I know you’ve been avoiding me, Michael, and I know why. I just want to know what it is Justin has ever done to you that he deserved having you out him to his mother.”

“Brian, I . . .”

“He was in a coma, for fuck’s sake! How was he supposed to defend himself? Defend his son? How was he supposed to do any of that, Michael?”

“I didn’t think about that.”

“Of course you didn’t. You didn’t stop to think that maybe he wasn’t out because he had to protect his son? That maybe it would have been that much easier for someone to take Finlay away from him if they had that one little piece of information?”

“Why the hell are you getting so upset about this? It’s not as if he told you he had a kid. And now you just, what, take his word for it when he claims someone wants to take his kid from him? How can you believe a single word that little liar says?”

“Because he told me why he didn’t tell me about Finlay. And he told me about why he didn’t tell his parents. Beyond that, it’s none of your business, Michael.”

“If it involves you, it _is_ my business.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Michael. I know we’ve been friends since we were fourteen, but that doesn’t excuse the way you’ve been acting.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t need you to protect me from Justin. Or from his son. Or from life. Now, I’m going to say this just once, and if you can’t get it through your head, then I want nothing to do with you, all right? I love Justin. I have since the night we met, I just didn’t want to admit it. I’m tired of you constantly talking about him being a kid. He’s not a kid, he’s an adult with a child of his own, a life of his own that he’s made for his son and himself without any help from anyone. He’s not a country-club brat. He’s an amazing man, Michael, and I really wish you could see him the way I do. That you could get past this irrational obsession you have with me and accept that I love Justin, that he’s a part of my life, and he isn’t going anywhere.”

“So, what, you’re telling me you’re willing to give up all the tricks, going to the clubs and the bars, to do what? Spend your time at home playing full-time Daddy to someone else’s kid?” Michael replied with a sneer.

“I don’t know yet, we haven’t discussed anything. But if that’s what I want, what makes me happy, then you should accept it.” He walked toward the open door, then turned and looked at Michael again. “If you had managed to find someone you really love, and I’m not talking about David, because we both know you don’t really love him the way you want to, then I would be happy for you, Michael. I just wish you could return the courtesy.” He made his way downstairs, where he found Debbie sitting on the floor as Finlay crawled around the living room. As soon as the little boy heard Brian’s footsteps he looked up, then turned and raced toward the other man.

“Hey Sonnyboy,” Brian said quietly, picking up Finlay and holding him securely against his chest. “How about we go home, then call Daphne and see if she wants to come over and play with you, huh?” He turned to Vic. “Thanks for everything.”

“No problem, Brian. Take care of your boys.”

“I will. Bye Deb.” Slinging the diaper bag over his shoulder, Brian made his way to the front door. He never noticed Michael standing at the top of the stairs, tears rimming his eyes as he watched the scene below.


	10. Always

When Justin awoke the next day, he found his mother sitting in the hard plastic chair beside his bed. He thought about calling for the nurse and asking for another dose of whatever she'd given him the night before, but he couldn't be sure if he wanted it because his head hurt or because he wanted to fall into a blissful oblivion where his mother couldn't bother him.

'What do you want?' he whispered.

'I just wanted to see how you were doing.'

'Now you've seen. And now you can go.'

'You shouldn't be alone through all of this, Justin. I know you think you have certain . . . feelings . . . for Brian''

'I know exactly how I feel about him. That's not an issue, and it's not up for debate.'

'But you're so young''

'Why the fuck does everyone have to get so hung up on my age? Brian is the only person who hasn't made an issue of it. He's the only one, aside from Daphne, who sees me for who I really am, not as a little kid playing house. When are you going to see me for who I am?'

'Justin, I do see you. I just don't understand''

'What is there to understand? I love the way he arches an eyebrow when he wants to ask a question. The way he asks my opinion when one of his ad campaigns isn't working. The way he encourages me to be the best artist I can be. The way he holds his son. The way he holds my son. The way his hair sticks up in the morning. The way he tastes when he kisses me. The way he says my name when he comes.'

'Justin!'

'It's the truth, Mom, okay? And I don't give a shit if you don't like it. You have done nothing but judge me from the moment I told you Shannon was pregnant. Sure, I'll admit that wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done, but it's been the best thing.'

'How can you say that?'

'Because to not say it is to wish Finlay weren't here, and he's the most important thing in my life. I know you always assumed I'd be a father, but as often as you thought about that, I thought about how unlikely it was that I'd ever have that particular blessing. And then everything happened with Shannon and I know I should have been upset, like all the straight guys who got their girlfriends pregnant, but I always saw it as one of those little accidents that you end up being really glad happened.'

'I don't understand.'

'There was no reason for me to be upset about becoming a father because it's one of the few things I've ever wanted in life. And it was the one that I always believed was the most out of reach.' He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed before looking at his mother again. 'I'm a good father. I wish you could see that. I wish you weren't constantly trying to convince me that Finlay would be better off in Chicago.'

'I just think he needs to know his family, know where he comes from.'

'He's going to know where he comes from. He's going to know his heritage. I'm sure Brian will still be around, and that he can teach him a little bit about the Irish side of his family. But I'm not going to expose him to Dad and to Shannon's parents. They'd just try and convince him that I'm a terrible person and then they'd try to make him what they want him to be, rather than letting him grow and live his life the way he wants to, and do with his life what he wants. He won't have that kind of pressure with me.'

'I see there's no arguing this with you.' Jennifer crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Justin for a moment, taking in the bandage around his head, the cold glint of his eyes, and the angry set of his jaw. 'I just . . . how long have you known?'

'Since I was nine. I had such a crush on Ricky Matthews,' he said quietly. His eyes once again shifted to his mother. 'I only slept with Shannon once, we were both drunk. It probably shouldn't have happened, but I'm glad it did.'

'I can't believe this. That poor girl, she would be devastated to learn . . .'

'She already knew. I told her after she told me she was pregnant. We only got married because her parents threatened to make her give the baby up for adoption. Neither of us wanted that. We both wanted to be parents. We were going to stay married until we'd finished college and were able to support our son from two households.'

'What did she say when, um . . . when you told her?'

'She said she'd be really pleased if I met a nice guy who could be the baby's other father. She never had a problem with it.' He glared at his mother for a moment. 'She was very open-minded. And I did love her. She was my best friend.' He felt tears gather in his eyes. 'Finlay will be a year old in another month.'

'November 15th.'

'Yeah.' He sat up slowly, groaning as he did so.

'Hey, take it easy,' Brian said, strolling into the room and watching Justin. 'The last thing you need is to lose your balance and hit your head on the goddamn wall.' He slipped his arms around the younger man and gently eased him into a better position. 'Mrs. Taylor.' He nodded at the stiff woman, then turned his attention back to Justin. 'So, honestly, how're you feeling?'

'Um, how about . . . like shit? Where's Finlay?'

'Daycare. When I left he was trying to throw a ball.'

'Not very good, is he? What can I say, he takes after me.'

'Hm, true. Anyway, I was thinking, that's a really nice place. I should mention it to Lindsay.'

'I thought she was doing the housewife thing and taking care of Gus herself?'

'She is, but only for the first year. Mel couldn't find a way to stretch their budget to make it last longer than that. After that, Sonnyboy goes into daycare, just like every other kid these days.'

'Justin?'

'What?' He turned to face his mother, but reached for Brian's hand and entwined their fingers.

'I just wanted to let you know that I'll be leaving for Chicago tonight. What do you want me to tell everyone?'

'There's nothing to tell. Except for Molly. Tell her to call me sometime. If dad will allow it, that is.'

'I'm sure that'll be fine. Any message for Connor and Maureen?'

'No.' He gazed at her for a moment, taking in the slight slump of her shoulders, the slight dip of her head. 'Look, I'm sorry if I've hurt you. But it goes both ways. You and Dad, Connor and Maureen, you've all hurt me countless times in the past year and a half. And I wish I could forgive and forget easily, but I just can't.'

'All right.' She nodded, then turned toward the door. Halting just inside the room, she turned, and looked at her son and his lover. 'Justin? Are you really, truly, happy?'

'Yes.'

'That's all I really ever wanted for you.' Then she turned and disappeared from the room.

 

Justin was resting comfortably in Brian's arms on the small hospital bed in the private room he had been moved to, watching Rebel Without a Cause, when Dr. Rashid and Detective Horvath entered the room.

'Mr. Taylor.'

'What's happened?' Justin asked quietly, his hands resting on Brian's forearms.

'I just wanted to let you know that Ethan Gold has confessed to attacking you. You don't have to worry about him anymore.'

'Okay.' He let out a shaky breath and burrowed impossibly closer to Brian, taking comfort in his arms. 'Um . . . did he say why?'

'It appears that he just didn't handle your rejection of him too well.'

'That's a fucking understatement,' Brian muttered against Justin's ear.

'Do you know how long he'll be in jail for? Or if there's going to be a hearing or anything?'

'He'll be sentenced on November 12th. If you would like, you can speak at the sentencing.'

'I'll need to think about it. Thank you for letting me know.'

'You're welcome. Have a good afternoon. Glad to see you're doing better.' As he exited the room, Dr. Rashid turned to Justin and peered down at him with concern.

'So, honestly, how are you feeling?'

'Okay. My head still hurts a little. How big is that hole you drilled in my skull?' he teased, grinning slightly.

'It's very small.'

'Hurts like a bitch sometimes. Is there any way I can get a painkiller that doesn't make me pass out ten minutes after I take it? And, remember, I'm allergic to Tylenol.'

'I'll see what I can do. How about your arm? Are you noticing any improvement in it?'

'No, not really.'

'Well, it's going to take time. In a few days we'll start you on therapy as an outpatient. Now, I'll go see about that painkiller.'

'Okay. Thanks.' He waited until the doctor had left, then turned toward Brian slightly. 'Can we lay down? We need to talk a little, I think, and I can't do that without looking at you.'

Brian moved from behind Justin, laying the younger man carefully against the pillows. Then he lay on his side facing the younger man. 'Okay, so what's going on?'

'I've just had a lot of time to think since I woke up. And I guess I just need to know what, exactly, we are to each other. I know we're friends. But that was starting to change, wasn't it? We were going to talk about it before all this happened, right?'

'Yeah, we were.' Brian reached forward and rubbed his thumb across Justin's cheek which, thankfully, was finally beginning to get some color back. 'It started to change almost immediately. I don't think we were ever meant to be just friends. But I'm completely new to the whole relationship thing.'

'So am I. But I think, in some way, I fell in love with you the moment I saw you outside of Babylon. If not then, then definitely when I saw you holding Gus.'

'Ah. So it's true. Fags always go for a man with a baby.'

'Fuck off,' Justin replied with a laugh. 'It's just, when you're with your child, especially in the beginning, people can see who you really are. It's hard to put up walls that your own child can't manage to sneak through.'

'True. Guess I never thought of it that way.'

'So, back to the original question. What is our relationship? What is the one term that describes it?'

Brian was silent for a moment as he studied Justin's clear blue eyes, the blonde hair peeking out from under the bandage, the cowry shell bracelet that now adorned the man's wrist. 'Partners,' he finally whispered.

'Partners?'

'Yeah. 'Boyfriends' would be fine'if either of us were boys, which we're not. It's just too juvenile, I guess. And 'lovers' has always seemed to insinuate that it's all about sex. Which clearly, it's not. Least not with us.'

'True. And you're okay with Finlay?'

'Yeah. I wasn't sure when Daphne handed him over if I'd be able to stand spending so much time with a baby. I guess I just never thought I had it in me, you know? I can be with Gus and take care of him for a little while, but at the end of the day he goes back to the moms. I just always figured that was the only kind of parent I could be'part-time.' He let out a rush of air. 'I just don't want to turn into my dad.'

'We don't have to be our dads if we don't want to be.' He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Brian's lips. 'So does this mean you wanna be Finlay's other dad?'

'I don't think I can resist the pull of the Taylor men, so yeah, I guess I do.' He took note of the tears collecting in Justin's eyes. 'The same goes for you and Gus, though.'

'Okay.' He shifted closer to Brian and wrapped an arm around the older man's waist. 'I love you.'

'Love you too, baby,' Brian whispered as the nurse came in with Justin's medication.

 

After leaving the hospital later that night, and having Daphne pick up Finlay from daycare, Brian found his way over to Mel and Lindsay's. His earlier discussion with Justin had left his mind whirling and, as he and the younger man had continued watching movies, he began to think of his relationship with Gus. Eventually he came to the conclusion that he had to spend more time with his son. And he was dreading that conversation with Lindsay. As he stepped onto the porch, Mel opened the door.

'Hi, Brian. How's Justin?'

'Good. He's going home soon.'

'His arm still weak?'

'Yeah,' Brian replied as she ushered him into the house. 'But he's beginning therapy on it pretty soon. The doctors seem convinced he'll have full use of it again.'

'Brian!' Lindsay exclaimed as she came down the stairs carrying Gus. 'What are you doing here?'

'Just in the neighborhood.' He reached out and picked up the small baby. 'Actually, I need to talk to the two of you.'

'Is Justin all right?'

'Yeah, he's fine.' He sat in an empty chair, leaving the couch for the two women. 'I just spent a lot of time today thinking, and I realized that I want to spend more time with my son. Visit more during the week. Maybe have him for the weekend once in a while.' He ran his finger down the child's cheek. 'I just don't want to miss his entire childhood.'

'But, Brian, you signed over your right . . .'

'I know. But I'm still his father. That has to mean something.'

'Then why haven't you spent more time with him before now?' Lindsay questioned. 'I know you care about Justin, but you can't be spending all of your time with him. You could have come over before now.'

'I've been trying to get used to the whole full-time dad thing. Finlay's a lot of work, he's a lot more active than Gus.'

'But you're not his father, Brian.'

'Justin wants me to be.'

'What? Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you already have a child you hardly see. Why would you willingly spend all of your time with someone else's?'

'You're being unfair.'

'How, exactly, am I being unfair? Finlay is not your son.'

'He is in the ways that count,' the man said quietly.

'But the fact remains that he's not your son. You have no biological connection to him.'

'The way I'm not Gus's mother?' Mel asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

'That's completely different.'

'How?'

'Look,' Brian said, 'I'm not trying to cause problems. I just want to spend more time with Gus. I'm sorry if you're bothered that Justin wants me to be around Finlay more, but I'm not going to give either of them up. And Mel's right. How is my relationship with Finlay any less valid than her relationship with Gus?'

'Well, for one thing, she has legal rights to him.'

'Yeah, because I signed my rights over to her. I know she loves him, and I'm glad for that. But I don't understand why you want to deny Finlay two parents who love him. Who love each other. And I don't understand why, if we're supposed to be such good friends, you want to deny me the chance to be a father to my son.'

'Jesus, Brian, you never wanted to be a father anyway!' Lindsay exclaimed.

'You don't know that, Lindsay, because it was never something I discussed. I hardly ever even thought about it, but in the back of my mind I always wanted to be a father. I just thought it was for the best if I wasn't. That way I couldn't turn into my old man. That's why I've resisted spending time with Gus. And that's why I signed over my rights.'

'What's changed?' Mel asked quietly.

'Justin. He's changed everything.' He took the pacifier Mel handed him and popped it into the baby's mouth.

 

Two days later Justin was released from the hospital. A small one that could be covered by his shaggy blonde hair had replaced the large gauze bandage.

'So, what do you want to do first?' Brian asked, as Justin pulled on a pair of baggy jeans that Brian had brought from his apartment.

'Um . . . let's go get Finlay from daycare. And then I need to get something to eat. This hospital food leaves a lot to be desired. Then,' he pulled a blue sweater over his head, 'I want to go home, put Finlay down for a nap, and make love for several hours.'

'Hm. Sounds like a plan.' Brian stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the shorter man's slender waist. He lightly kissed him, then snaked his hands under the back of Justin's sweater and began rubbing small circles on his back.

'Bri.'

'Hm?' Brian had turned his attention to Justin's neck and was gently licking and nibbling.

'I need to put my shoes on so we can get out of here.'

'Mm hm.' He leaned back, then lightly kissed Justin one more time before handing him his sneakers. 'Tonight, though.'

'Definitely tonight.'

 

Justin was almost dreading stepping into the diner that afternoon, but Brian had assured him that it would be mostly empty. The younger man was extremely relieved to find that this was, indeed, the case. He smiled over at Brian as the taller man carried Finlay toward an empty booth at the back of the diner. Once Justin was seated Brian placed Finlay on his lap and took a seat across from them.

'Sunshine!'

'Hi, Debbie.' Justin smiled up at the flamboyant redhead as she stopped at their booth.

'You're looking good. Glad to see you're feeling better.'

'Thanks.'

'So why didn't you tell us you had a kid?' she asked, looking down at Finlay, then waving her pointy red-tipped fingers at him, much to the boy's delight.

'Leave it alone, Deb,' Brian said quietly. 'Can I get my usual?'

'Sure. How about you, Sunshine?'

'Cheeseburger and fries. And a chocolate shake. And some banana pudding, if you have it.'

'Coming right up,' she replied, snapping her gum as she walked away.

'Thanks,' Justin said, turning a wide grin on Brian.

'No problem. It really isn't any of their business, anyway. Besides, it's not as if they've really let you into their family circle yet, so they have no reason to feel all put-out that you didn't tell them.'

'True.' He looked down at Finlay and smiled at the boy. 'So, are you ready to help him learn how to walk? He's getting really close. He can hold himself up longer now than he could before.'

'Oh, is that what that means? I just thought he wanted to look around more.'

'Well, that too. When babies start to stand it means they're trying to get their sense of balance. Once they're feeling okay about it, then they'll try and walk. I think Finlay's going to try soon.'

'I can't wait.'

'Me either. This time we can share it.'

'What do you mean?'

'That was part of the reason I called you that night,' he said quietly. 'Whenever Finlay had reached a developmental milestone I'd been fine with being the only one to know about it. And then I met you. And I should have told you about him right from the beginning. So when he said 'da' for the first time, you were the first person I wanted to tell.' He paused while Debbie set their orders in front of them. 'I was so torn at that point. I loved you, I know that much. But I loved Finlay, too. And I didn't think I could have both. Finlay had to come first.'

'Baby,' Brian said quietly. 'Did you have anyone to talk to about it?'

'I called Daph. I was a mess, so she came over. We talked about a few things. She basically told me what a fucking idiot I was being. But at the same time she understood that I was only trying to protect my son.' He brushed Finlay's hair from his forehead, then took the small spoon Brian had retrieved from the diaper bag and began feeding the pudding to the boy. 'And, honestly, I guess I was trying to protect myself. I knew that if things went on as they were I would become even more of a mess. And at that point, I was the only person Finlay could rely on. So I had to try and hold it together.'

'I'm glad you had Daphne. I get the feeling she's going to be around for a long time,' Brian said with a slight smile.

'Yeah, once she latches on she never lets go. She's already declared herself Finlay's aunt. Not that I mind. He needs a family, not just me.'

'Now he's got one. You, me, Gus . . . even Mel. And Vic adores him.'

'You took him to see Vic?'

'Yeah, I needed some advice about dealing with the Mikey situation.'

'And how do things stand with you and Michael now?' he asked hesitantly.

'I don't know. I want him to still be my friend. But he needs to realize that we'll never be more than that. Until he does, he's out of luck. I haven't really talked to him since that day.'

'I'm sorry. I never meant to come between your friendship.'

'You didn't. It's just an accumulation of Michael's misconceptions about things. I set him straight, so to speak. Maybe he just needs time for it to sink in.'

'Maybe,' Justin replied, though he wasn't easily convinced. He looked down at Finlay, who was finished eating and was now excitedly waving his arms and legs. 'See, I told you . . . he's raring to go.'

'Wanna let him try?'

'Here?'

'Why not?' He climbed out of the booth and scooped Finlay out of Justin's arms. 'Okay, little man, you wanna try and walk to Daddy?' He set the boy down a couple of feet away, carefully holding onto his pudgy arms. Finlay giggled, then began bouncing up and down a little.

'Come on, Finlay, you can do it,' Justin said quietly, turning sideways in the booth and holding his hands out for his son. 'One step at a time.' He smiled at the boy as, on shaking legs, Finlay took one step, then another. Brian gently let go of his hands and let the boy take his final three rushed steps to his father by himself. Justin caught him in his outstretched hands, then let Brian hoist Finlay onto his lap. 'You did it, baby, you did it,' he whispered, hugging his son.

Brian leaned over and kissed first one blonde head and then another. He was slightly surprised when Finlay turned and held out his arms to him but, at Justin's nod, he picked the boy up and hugged him for a moment.

'See? It can be a lot of fun being a full-time parent,' Justin pointed out. 'Although this does mean he's becoming independent. God, I feel so old now.'

'Shut up, you're still a teenager.'

'Technically.'

'Technically,' Brian agreed. This time when he leaned down, he caught Justin's lips in a searing kiss, breaking apart only when Finlay began tapping on their cheeks. 'You know, I think your son approves of our relationship.'

'Seems that way,' Justin replied with a grin as Brian handed Finlay back to him. 'God, there's still so much that we have to figure out.'

'Such as?'

'If we're going to live together, and if so, where. I need to get my hand back in working order so I don't flunk out of PIFA in the first semester. Of course, that's provided I even get in. And then there's Chicago.'

'Chicago?'

'I need to visit next month. There are a lot of unresolved issues there. Finlay will be turning one, so that means it's a year since Shannon died. I need to be there for that. And I need to deal with my family and, possibly, my in-laws.' He pushed the food around on his plate for a moment. 'And I was sort of wondering if you would come with me.'

'Let me know exactly when and I'll have Cynthia clear my schedule.' His eyes drifted to Finlay, who was starting to fall asleep. 'Baby? He's falling asleep. Are you gonna be able to hang onto him?'

'Probably not.' Justin leaned over and lightly kissed Finlay's head. 'I really fucking hate this.'

'I know.' He studied the younger man for a moment. 'You look like you're about ready to go home.'

'Yeah. We may have to hold off of the fucking for a little while, though. I don't think I have the energy for it.'

'Take a nap and you'll be good as new,' Brian suggested, opening his wallet and leaving two twenties on the table. Then he picked up Finlay's soft blue hat and slipped it onto his head, quickly followed by his little blue coat.

'Leaving so soon?' Deb asked, stopping by their booth.

'Yeah,' Justin replied, as Brian lifted Finlay and held him securely against his chest. 'I just want to go home.' He stood and a sudden wave of dizziness hit him, although he was certain Deb didn't notice it, even if Brian had.

'Take care of yourself, Sunshine.'

 

Justin gazed around his apartment for a moment. It was almost like it had been nearly a week ago when he had been here last. The only difference was the laptop and briefcase resting atop the footlocker, and the pillow and blankets on the couch. He turned to Brian, questions in his eyes.

'It just wouldn't have seemed right, going into your room, without you,' the older man said quietly. 'It's too personal of a space.' He carried Finlay into his room and held him while Justin pulled off his hat, coat, shoes, pants, and sweater, leaving the little boy in just his diaper and shirt. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to his son's forehead, then watched as Brian set Finlay in his crib.

'Come on,' Justin whispered, taking Brian's hand in his and leading him out of Finlay's room. They walked to the end of the small hallway. Justin pushed open the door and pulled Brian inside. 'So, what do you think?'

Brian gazed around the room. The walls were midnight blue, accented by white molding. The bed was a rich mahogany color, covered with a deep blue duvet and accented with silver throw pillows amidst larger blue pillows. His eyes were instantly drawn to the painting on the wall directly across from the bed. It was of two figures, intertwined, one alabaster and one slightly tanned, against a bluish-gray background. He immediately recognized it.

'When did you paint this?' he asked quietly, turning and pulling Justin into his arms.

'After that phone call. It all just kind of came out of me one night. I wasn't concentrating on painting anything specific'I was in a kind of a daze, actually. I didn't really see it until I was done. Since then it's been the last thing I see every night before I fall asleep.'

'It's beautiful, baby.'

'Thanks.' He pulled Brian down for a soft kiss. 'Lay down with me?'

Brian nodded, then led Justin over to the bed. They quietly undressed, then lay together in the center of the large bed. It took only a matter of moments for Justin to wrap himself around the taller man and, using Brian's chest as a pillow, fall asleep. A short time later, Brian joined him in slumber.

 

When Justin awoke Brian was sitting cross-legged on the bed, leaning against the headboard, and staring at the painting. He watched the man for a moment, then slowly sat up and blinked tiredly.

'Hey.'

'Hi.'

'What time is it?' Justin asked, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

'Around six. You've only been out for an hour.'

'Okay. That's good.' He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Brian's lips. 'I think I'm rested now.'

'Oh yeah?'

'Yeah.'

'Okay.' Brian studied him for a moment, then reached for a large black velvet box that he had placed on the nightstand while Justin slept. 'I have something for you first.' He turned so that he faced Justin, then scooted forward, their legs becoming entwined and their chests nearly touching.

'What is it?' Justin ran his fingers over the black velvet.

'Open it and find out.'

Justin slowly pried open the lid, then glanced up at Brian for a moment before returning his gaze to the contents of the box. 'Brian . . .' he breathed, his voice barely more than a whisper.

'I saw them the other day after I left the hospital, the day we'd talked about how to define our relationship. And it seemed like the decision to be partners was worthy of some sort of physical reminder.'

'They're beautiful. The bigger one is yours, right?'

'Yeah.' Brian reached for the smaller of the two cuff bracelets, holding it up so Justin could look inside.

'Always,' Justin read, engraved on the inside of the bracelet.

'Always, baby.' He reached down and, with one hand, removed he cowry shell bracelet he had placed on the younger man a few days before. He carefully slid the silver bracelet onto Justin's left wrist and tightened it until he was sure it wouldn't be able to slip off. He ran the pad of his thumb over the engraved Celtic Lover's Knot on the top of the bracelet. Then he looked at the younger man, really looked at him, and knew the single word engraved inside the bracelet was accurate.

Justin smiled broadly and picked up the other bracelet. He slipped it onto Brian's naked wrist, taking pleasure in the way the soft light in the bedroom reflected off the cool metal. Leaning forward, he captured Brian's lips in a heated kiss and then, their faces only inches apart, he whispered, 'Always.'


End file.
